


Not So Easy A

by apearlinmyhead



Category: Bleach
Genre: Aged up Kurosaki sisters, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Kickboxing, M/M, Slow Burn, class partners, just a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:32:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apearlinmyhead/pseuds/apearlinmyhead
Summary: Ichigo is ready to start his senior year. His sisters are finally at university with him, his friends are all on the soccer team, and he's got an easy A lined up on his class schedule, or so he thought. He gets paired with a ghost from the past for his supposed easy class, but he's not going to let that ruin his whole semester.





	1. Chapter 1

The noise of a cash register drawer slamming closed brought Ichigo back to reality. The college student behind the counter smiled weakly, and turned his attention to the petite blonde woman that was next in line. As she started to rattle off a complicated coffee order, Ichigo grabbed the steaming cup in front of him and stumbled out of the way.

“Are you like.. good?”

The voice came from behind Ichigo, and he turned to see Rukia, bag slung over her shoulders, iced coffee in one hand, half a croissant in the other.

“It’s the first day of classes, and you’re already a wreck? I’m honestly embarrassed for you.”

“If you want to be snarky with me, your delivery would be more effective if you didn’t have a giant flake of croissant on your face.” Ichigo snapped back.

“Ehh!?” Rukia gasped, furiously wiping at her face. “Okay screw you, we’re going to be late. Let’s go, hangover boy, I won’t have my perfect attendance reputation ruined because of you, even if we have an in with this professor.”

"An in? The guy is practically my uncle. I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

The pair exited the busy cafe, pushing past other students desperately trying to get their own caffeine fix before classes started. Rukia walked purposefully towards the science building, Ichigo trailing behind her in a fog. He pulled his sunglasses off his head and over his squinting eyes.

“I wouldn’t say I’m excited for this class, but it is nice to know that I have an easy A this semester,” Rukia chatted, ignoring Ichigo’s grunts and mumbles in response. Summer was still hanging on, the warm morning promising to continue to heat up. It would be perfect weather to read outside, Ichigo mused, mentally making a note to stop by the library later. A quick chop to Ichigo’s side pulled him out of his daydream and doubled him over as they walked through the quad.

“Are you listening?” Rukia asked authoritatively.

“God, Rukia, can you let a guy live? I’m clearly hungover,” Ichigo groaned. “It’s so fucking bright. I’m going to murder Renji for convincing me to go out with the guys last night. Just ‘cause the first day of classes is only an intro to the course doesn’t mean I’m immune to hangovers. Can’t believe you’re even seeing him.” Ichigo continued to grumble, massaging his side.

“First of all, we aren’t seeing each other-”

“Debatable.”

“Second, I was just talking about that, you absolute moron.” Rukia sighed as she started digging through her purse and continuing her relentless march towards class. “As I was saying. Renji is in this class too, so you’ll have plenty of time to murder him. I’m sure we will see plenty of repeat performances of last night. Aha!” Rukia pulled out a small, rattling bottle, and shoved it into Ichigo’s hands.

“Oh thank God,” Ichigo breathed, dropping two advil into his hand. “How many of these things do you think I can have on an empty stomach without dying?”

Rukia snatched the plastic bottle back, and began rummaging through her bag again. “Well,” she said smugly, triumphantly pulling a granola bar out, “you don’t have to do it on an empty stomach. And I think two is a good starting place.”

“You’re always so prepared. Where would I be without you?”

“Dead, most likely. Besides, we were literally just getting coffee, you could have gotten something.” Without being asked, Rukia handed him a water bottle. Ichigo took a swig to wash down the pills, and the bottle disappeared into the bag as quickly as it appeared.

She pushed open a door with her shoulder and the two entered the room. The airy classroom was filled with long counters, all facing the front of the room. A waving hand caught Ichigo’s attention, and a curvy, copper haired woman called out to them, much too loudly for the small, relatively empty room.

“Ichigo, Rukia, we saved you seats!!”

“Inside voice, Orihime,” the redhead at the counter behind her closed his eyes and groaned, resting his head on an elbow propped hand.

Rukia took the seat next to him. “Looks like you’re as bad as Ichigo. Did the both of you become complete wimps over the summer?”

Renji opened one eye and looked at her with a grin. “Really put me in my place, babe, thanks.” For a second, Ichigo thought his friend was puckering his lips at her, but before he could be sure of it, Rukia swiped at Renji’s elbow, his head slipping off his hand and slamming onto the counter.

“Oy Rukia, c’mon” he cried out, indignantly. He massaged his cheekbone and turned his attention to Ichigo, who had settled in next to Orihime. “Glad to hear I’m not the only one suffering though. That beer/shot combo deal is fucking deadly.”

“I can only imagine the rest of the guys are feeling it as well. At least this isn’t an early class.”

“Yeah, we really scored on getting a good filler class. The science of cooking? Honestly, it’s like they made this course for seniors who are just trying to breeze through,” Renji grinned.

“You’d be right, Mr. Abarai,” an overly familiar voice boomed from the front of the room.

Ichigo cringed and instantly became aware that the room was now full of other students. He turned to face the man in front of the white board.

“I hope you all didn’t get too comfortable, because I’ve assigned you all lab partners,” the professor said. “I’m Professor Urahara, though I know several of you already know me. Grab your stuff, I’ll call out partners.” A groan sounded from the class, as people gathered their things and stood against the wall, waiting to be told who to pair with.

Ichigo looked around the room. It wasn’t a very large class, maybe 20 students, tops. As he expected, the room was filled with students that were clearly seniors. Most of them had passed on the common practice of dressing nicely for the first day of classes, jaded by their years in the education system. There were a couple familiar faces around the room, people that Ichigo had taken gen ed classes with in the past, or that he just recognized from seeing around the relatively small campus over the past three years. It seemed like this course was a popular choice, full of seniors like Ichigo trying to get an easy class that filled a graduation requirement and wasn’t so early that it would dissuade them from going out the night before. As Ichigo’s eyes scanned the people around him, they fell on one person he never expected to see.

A tall, broad shouldered guy slouched in the corner. His presence was imposing, dressed in all black with a shock of electric blue, gelled hair. He was scowling at the ground while a shorter man with bright green eyes talked to him, an unreadable, neutral expression on his face. Ichigo quickly looked away, not wanting to lock eyes with either of them. As he did, the shorter man picked his bag up off the ground and crossed the room to take a seat next to Orihime.

Right, shit. Kisuke was calling out names. Ichigo’s gut clenched as the amount of people around the sides dwindled. Please don’t pair me with him, Ichigo pleaded internally.

“Ichigo Kurosaki ” Kisuke called out, “You’re with Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.”

Fuck.

He took a seat at the next available counter, which at least was behind Rukia. Rukia, who was paired with Renji. Fucking lucky bastards. Rukia’s face was sympathetic, but she quickly turned around to face the front of the room as soon as Ichigo felt a body next to his. The other chair scraped loudly against the floor and a malevolent presence settled into the seat.

Ichigo turned to face him properly. Bright blue eyes glared back at him.

“Good to see you,” Ichigo said, sticking out his hand.

His lab partner stared at it, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. Ichigo’s outstretched hand hovered in the air for several long, painful seconds. Embarrassed, he took it back and started fiddling with his notebook. Thankfully it wasn’t long before everyone had been paired off and Kisuke had taken his place back at the front of the room.

“Okay, so for the record, I didn’t have a choice about the lab partners. If you have a problem with it, bring it up with the head of the department! Let’s get on with it. I mean, it’s a cooking class so, expect to cook things...” Kisuke began, starting to pass out a stack of papers.

Ichigo didn’t hear much else. He sat tensed in his chair, staring at the back of Renji’s ponytail for 30 minutes. How does he get it to look like that anyway? At this point his hangover was gone, thanks to Rukia, but he was still having a hard time focusing. Only when his friends in front of him started to stand up did he realize that they’d been dismissed early.

Snatching his bag from the floor, Ichigo nearly tripped over the stool he had been seated on and jumped up to join Rukia and Renji as they exited the classroom.

“So, lunch?” Renji asked, once the three of them were outside the classroom.

“Please, god yes,” Ichigo replied.

Students continued to file out of the room. Ichigo watched Orihime giggling and waving goodbye to her dark haired lab partner before joining the trio. He was watching the odd young man loiter in the corner when Rukia started talking to him.

“So, I know you like the udon place on Broad Street, but I’ve actually been dying for some tacos lately.”

Yeah, that seems good, I’d be down for that. I just want to ask Kisuke a question before we go.”

“And what kind of question would that be, Mr. Kurosaki?” Kisuke asked, appearing out of thin air. Behind him Ichigo’s new, scowling lab partner slipped out of the classroom and stalked down the hall after throwing a glowering look in Ichigo’s direction. Orihime’s lab partner trailed behind him, seemingly unfazed by his friend’s behavior.

Once Grimmjow was around the corner, out of sight and presumably earshot, Ichigo rounded on Kisuke. “What the hell is up with these pairings, Urahara!”

“Well, I did say the partners thing was not my choice,” Kisuke said soberly. “The department chair knew it was a mostly senior class and insisted on assigned partners so that it wouldn’t just be friends goofing off. Plus, I believe he knew that I was friendly with the four of you, so he didn’t want me playing favorites this time around.”

“As if you play favorites! If anything, you’re gonna be harder on us than with normal students!” Renji complained.

“If it’s random, then how did Rukia and Renji end up together!” Ichigo said pointedly.

“Well. It was the luck of the draw,” Kisuke replied, wringing his hands hard enough to raise some questions.

“If anyone should be the favorite, it’s me. I’ve known you most of my life,” Ichigo whined.

Sensing that the students weren’t buying his reasoning, he added hastily, “Anyway, I wouldn’t cross Rukia if you paid me, and you are, technically, since that’s how tuition works.” He held up the papers that had been in the crook of his arm like a shield in front of his face, throwing all but his eyes into shadow. “That being said, I had no idea that was the young man you had run ins with in high school, and I would have thought by now you’d be over all that. It was years ago, Ichigo, time to move on! See you!” With that, the blond professor turned around and swiftly shut the classroom door behind him. 

***

El Rey del Tacos was his college town’s best kept secret in Ichigo’s opinion. Easily the best tacos in the area, but far enough off campus that it never got too busy and you could always get a table. Ichigo had grumbled the whole way there, but after being away for the summer, he was glad to get his regular order, three carnitas and cheese tacos with everything on them, and a Mexican coke.

The four friends sat down at their favorite booth by the window. They sat in silence for a moment, Ichigo and Renji trying to banish the last remnants of their collective hangovers.

“So, when are you going to fill me in about that guy?” Renji said, a portion of his burrito hanging out of his mouth as he sucked it back. “I didn’t want to ask earlier, but I feel like I’m missing some history here?”

“It’s honestly nothing,” Ichigo bristled, “and I’m embarrassed we even have to talk about it.” He took a long drink of his coke and set it down with a bit too much force. “Me and this guy, we actually don’t even know each other.”

“So what’s the fuss?”

“There’s no fuss.”

“Then why are you being weird about it?”

“I’m not being weird. He’s just this guy. We got in a fight once back in high school cause he tried to jump Rukia as like, a prank, or a dare, or whatever. But then we kept seeking each other out to fight. He would beat my ass, honestly, and then one time I actually won it, and I never saw him again.”

“Mmmm. Awkward,” was all Renji has to offer, as he dove back into his lunch.

“I always had the feeling that something happened though, like it wasn’t that he wasn’t seeking me out any more, he was just gone. I looked for him too, you know? I’m not looking for a fight now, obviously, but I always wondered what happened.”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about here. It’s been what, four years?” Rukia waved her taco in the air. “I think you’ve both grown and changed. And if it’s really a problem, like if he actually starts a fight with you, then we can go from there. If nothing happens, then there’s no reason to stress over it and ruin an otherwise excellent class.”

“Cool, yeah, and what do I do in the meantime? Just make a freaking croque monsieur with this dude that hates me? Won’t even shake my hand?”

“Well actually, I think next week is omelettes, so..” Orihime cut in.

“Great. I’m thrilled. Well, I’m still pissed that you two lovebirds got paired up.”

Rukia smacked Ichigo on the head with a rolled up laminated menu. “How dare you imply anything about my personal life.”

Beside her, Renji grinned and winked at Ichigo. “At least I know she makes a killer omelette in the morning, eh?”

The menu smacked him too, a little harder this time. Rukia grabbed her tray and set off to return it, maintaining a rigid back though her face was bright red.

“She looked like this bottle of hot sauce, eh Ichigo?” Renji laughed, jutting his thumb towards the condiments.

“You should be ashamed, it’s obvious she really likes you and is trying to be discreet about the beginning of your relationship.” Orihime tutted across the table.

“What! I mean I really like her too, that’s why we can tease!” Renji stammered.

“No, your teasing is why she wants to hide it from everyone. She doesn’t want to get this from everybody and you’re making it worse,” Orihime scolded, her voice low.

“But she-”

“All I’m saying is, go apologize,” she said, cutting him off with all the motherly authority she could muster.

Renji grabbed the remaining trays on the table and followed Rukia to the counter. From their seat across the room, Ichigo and Orihime watched Rukia scold Renji, the tall, bear of a man practically cowering in front of the woman who was a solid foot shorter than him.

“They’re actually kind of perfect together, don’t you think?” Orihime said to Ichigo after a moment. They watched as Renji tenderly placed a kiss on Rukia’s forehead, which earned him both a smack on the arm and the swiftest peck on the cheek Ichigo had ever seen.

“The weirdest part is how they’re like the same person but also, exact opposites? Unsure on how that one worked out.” Ichigo laughed.

The tension was gone as Rukia and Renji returned to the table. The four friends gathered their stuff and exited the restaurant, making their way towards Renji’s impeccably clean Rav 4. The smile on Ichigo’s face, which appeared when Renji tripped on a particularly large pothole, stayed there the rest of the way back to campus. Yeah, he thought to himself, it was going to be a good semester. No need to sweat about it.

***

Ichigo’s other class for the day was much like his first, in the sense that it was short and consisted of little more than a brief introduction to the course. After leaving it, his phone buzzed in his pocket. There were several messages in a group chat.

Karin: oi bro when r we getting dinner

Yuzu: Ichigo! You promised we would eat together today. When are you out?

Karin: I vote tacos

Yuzu: Yes!

Karin: where’s the best taco place  
Karin: you said there’s a good one  
Karin: wouldn’t shut up about it all last year  
Karin: better not hold out on us

Ichigo sighed and began typing back.

Ichigo: I literally just got out  
Ichigo: hold your horses you maniacs  
Ichigo: also I already had tacos today

Karin: nooooo

Yuzu: NNOOOOOOOO

Ichigo: next time  
Ichigo: off campus pizza? I promise you’ll get sick of the stuff in the student cafeteria.

Karin: deal

Yuzu: yes!

                     Ichigo: Okay, meet me at my car, it’s parked near the weird sculpture that looks like a naked lady by the library.

Yuzu: ☺️☺️

Karin: got it

When he arrived at his car, he was greeted by two short girls. They looked nearly identical, except that one had dirty blonde hair and wore a huge grin. The other had dark hair and a disinterested smirk.

“Ichigo!! We’re in college!” Yuzu ran up to him and caught him around the waist with a hug.

“And how is that going?”

“It’s only the first day, Yuzu, calm down. As if he didn’t move us in.” The dark haired girl laughed and put her hand on her hip.

“It’s just nice to be able to see you all the time!” Yuzu said, a genuine smile spread across her face.

“Don’t get too used to it. It’s going to get busy, and soon you won’t even have time for each other.”

“We’re roommates, idiot,” Karin said as she rolled her eyes.

“I said what I said. You’ll see.” Ichigo unlocked the car and hopped into the driver’s seat.

***

“Ughh I can’t believe it’s already crowded. It usually takes the freshmen a couple weeks to find this place.”

Pizza Pizza No. 1 was a popular spot for a reason. Hot pizza by the slice, late night dollar deals, and proximity to campus made it a haven for students looking to eat something other than campus food.

“Hurry up and grab a booth, you’re probably going to have to fight someone if you wait too long.” Ichigo directed Karin and Yuzu towards the seating area and jumped into line to order for the three of them.

A few minutes later, balancing six slices on a tray, he made his way back towards his sisters.

“Karin, you’re going to do women’s intramural soccer, yeah?”

“Obviously. I don’t have time for the school team, but I want to keep playing,” she replied, trying to find a graceful way to eat the cheesy slice.

“The men’s and women’s mixer is tomorrow, you going?”

“We both are. I went to the info session at the club fair and it felt like they were pitching the party more than the team.”

“You’d be surprised how much they make off those parties. Though it means Renji’s house becomes even more of a shithole.”

“You’re not playing though, are you Ichigo?” Yuzu butted in.

“No, I don’t have the time to really commit, but obviously I’m still close with all the guys on the team. I might go to practice every now and then.”

“Right, we saw Renji at the table for the men’s team. He basically told the girl running the women’s table that if they didn’t take me, they’re idiots. As if there are tryouts for an intramural team,” Karin snorted.

“Also,” Yuzu said, suddenly sly, “we saw Karin’s future boyfriend.”

A sharp inhale came from Karin’s side of the table as she choked a bit on her pizza.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, as soon as she regained her composure.

“She does know, and I bet Renji does too if you wanted to ask him,” Yuzu said, pointing towards the door.

Four guys had just come in, the jingle at the door inaudible over the sound of the busy restaurant. The one at the front was Renji, sporting a black and white jacket with the soccer team’s logo on it. Behind him were Yumichika and Ikkaku, both upperclassmen on the team. The third was a stranger, a, short guy with a cloud of white hair. Though Ichigo didn’t recognize him, the boy’s carried himself with the same knowing authority as the other three soccer players, if not more. Renji locked eyes with Ichigo, and started making his way over to their table, beckoning the other three to follow.

“Let me out of this booth, I need to pee,” Karin said suddenly, pushing on Ichigo to get out.

“Running away are we? Is it that white haired boy? What’s his name?” Ichigo teased, refusing to budge.

Just as it seemed that Karin would vault over the table, the guys reached them.

“Scoot over Kurosaki, there’s no other fucking booths available,” said Ikkaku, the muscular, bald man. He was a junior and an aggressive forward for the men’s team. “Can’t believe this place is already crawling with freshmen.”

Renji sidled in next to Yuzu, a familiar smile on his face.

“Hey ladies, how’s the first day going?” He asked.

“Great so far!” Yuzu chirped back.

A slender young man pushed Renji in even farther, brushing his silky, shoulder length hair out of his face. He sat down and gracefully stretched his right hand out to Ikkaku, who grabbed it with unabashed tenderness. A flicker of surprise flashed across the white haired boy’s face, standing awkwardly at the end of the table. It was obvious that another person wouldn’t fit in the booth, and that Karin was actively avoiding his gaze.

“That’s how it goes freshie,” the long haired upperclassman smirked, gesturing to the lack of seats.

“Just steal a chair and sit in the aisle,” Renji jumped in. “Toshiro, this is Ichigo and his sisters Yuzu and Karin. Ichi, Toshiro. We had to go out and replace you since you can’t be bothered to show up to practice this year.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, you knew I was going to be busy-” Ichigo started to counter.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Renji said with a wave of his hand.

“As if he needed to be replaced,” Ikkaku scoffed.

“Even if we didn’t need to, Toshiro is better than you are. Maybe you need replacing,” Renji said.

“You better take that back!”

“Make me!”

Renji and Ikkaku started to go back and forth when Yuzu spoke up rather suddenly.

“Actually, we have to go! I forgot there’s a baking thing our floor is doing and Karin promised she’d come with me.”

“Right! I did!” Karin chimed in, a little strangled.

With more force than necessary, Karin pushed her way out of the booth and past Toshiro, still standing.

“Thanks for dinner, big brother!” Yuzu smiled, as Renji graciously let her out.

“Pleasure to see you ladies as always!” he grinned, suddenly distracted from his spat with Ikkaku. “See you at the mixer, yeah?”

“Of course!” Yuzu replied, as Karin practically pushed her towards the door.

Ichigo continued waving dorkily at them as they left, however as they exited into the rapidly darkening evening, a muscular, blue haired man entered. He locked eyes with Ichigo, squinting at him with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

Ichigo’s hand dropped to the table loudly, though none of his friends, now all settled at the table around him, seemed to notice. Damn. Did Grimmjow think he was waving at him? Would it be weird to go explain the situation? Ichigo worried. He had already looked away, but continued to nervously glance up at the man as he stood in line to order.

“So how are they adjusting? You gonna mother hen them now that they’re here?” Renji directed at Ichigo.

“Oh, uhh,” Ichigo said, looking back around the table instead of at the register. “They seem to be loving it. Yuzu already made about a thousand friends it seems, but that’s just like her. I’m gonna give them their space and all, but obviously I’m counting on you guys to keep an eye out for them.”

At that, a near imperceptible blush flushed Toshiro’s pale cheeks.

“Oh, I think we can manage that, right Toshiro?” Yumichika said devilishly.

“Oh right! Toshiro’s sweet on your sister, Kurosaki!” Ikkaku barked, still holding Yumichika’s hand over the table. In the shuffle to let the girls out, the pair commandeered half the booth for themselves, squishing Toshiro, Renji, and Ichigo on the other side.

“I don’t even know her!” Toshiro blurted, the blush even more prominent.

Renji and stifled a laugh, though Ikkaku didn’t even try to hide his amusement. His laughter carried over the restaurant, earning him more than a few glares.

“Don’t worry about it dude, Karin’s great. I’m not going to do that big brother thing. But obviously, you know, if you hurt her you’re done.” Ichigo said casually.

Toshiro continued to sit stiffly, trying a little too hard to regain the cool composure he had before.

“It’s a joke, dude, relax.”

Ichigo wished he could take his own advice. Instead, he was tensed up, nervously tapping his finger on the table. Grimmjow had settled into a booth across the restaurant but diagonal from Ichigo and his friends. It was just close enough that basically every time Ichigo looked up, he was looking right at the guy. And more frequently than not, much to Ichigo’s dismay, Grimmjow was looking back.

“Earth to Ichigo...” Yumichika sang.

“Huh?” Ichigo said, blinking rapidly.

“You’re really spacing out, dude,” Ikkaku laughed, “first day wasn’t that intense was it?”

“Oh, haha, no not at all. Sorry, I just realized I was supposed to bring something to Orihime, I’ll see you guys later?”

A chorus of “bye” went around the table, and Renji and Toshiro made room for Ichigo to exit. Ichigo waved behind him but pointedly did not look at Grimmjow as he left.

He did not have anything to give to Orihime. He just needed a good reason to leave. It was honestly uncomfortable to be under that piercing glare for so long. Grimmjow had changed since he last saw him, which was, god, four years ago? Five? For one, the hair. Not that the blue didn’t suit him. It actually really did, much more than what Ichigo assumed was his natural blond that he had back in high school. He had started wearing eye makeup too. That really worked for him too. It was a casual sweep of teal eyeliner under the eye, but very artsy. Was that his thing now? Art? Frustrating realization dawned on Ichigo. He knew literally nothing about this guy. What was his major, who were his friends, how had Ichigo not run into him before now? And most pressingly, where had he been for all those years?

Before long, Ichigo arrived back at his dorm, his feet carrying him on autopilot while his brain contemplated his new lab partner. Some questions don’t really have answers though. All you can do is sit and stew on them for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is an expansion on my other story, As You Wish. I wanted to build up what happened before it and it seemed easier just to start a new fic. If you already read that one, cool! If not, just wait a little while.
> 
> Probably lots of typos RIP thanks for your patience.
> 
> Shout out to oldtown156 for letting me rant to figure out plot points.
> 
> Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

The first two weeks of the semester flew by. It was always like that, in Ichigo’s opinion. You start to get into the swing of the new schedule, catch up with the friends you lost touch with over the holidays, and then suddenly it’s nearly the end of September. That was just as well though. The regularity of the semester gave stability, which was always welcome in Ichigo’s sometimes crazy life.

 

The party that Renji, along with his housemates Ikkaku and Sado, had hosted on behalf of the soccer team went off without a hitch. Ichigo found himself firmly planted at the kitchen table nearly the whole time, laughing as most of the underclassmen got thoroughly wasted. Not that he, Renji, and Rukia didn’t too, but at least they could handle their alcohol. They spent the whole night switching between card drinking games. At a certain point in the night, Ikkaku and Yumichika disappeared upstairs, and more than once, Ichigo locked eyes with Karin, who always seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with Toshiro.

 

Probably the most exciting thing that had happened that night was Rukia openly kissing Renji on the mouth. It had caught Renji completely off guard, and the goofy smile he wore for the rest of the night was contagious, especially in everyone’s intoxicated state. The following morning, when pressed, Rukia finally came out and said that they were actually dating. It was kind of hard to hide at this point. Ichigo had spent the night on Renji’s couch, and seeing Rukia come down the stairs in Renji’s clothing was pretty damning. It was a huge relief to get it out in the open though, especially since Renji wasn’t even trying to keep it secret.

 

All in all, things were settling in nicely. At least he wasn’t the only single person around, though it was starting to feel like it. He and Sado had started hanging out way more; the burly Latino man was desperate to get out of the house now that his two roommates were both constantly with their significant others. They usually invited Orihime along as well, but for the first time, she had turned them down.

 

“Weird to be just us here,” Ichigo had remarked to Sado. The pair were back at Pizza Pizza No. 1, which was turning into a Wednesday night tradition.

 

“Mhm,” was the wordy response from Sado.

 

“I feel like you’re not telling me something,” Ichigo needled. Sado was always quiet, but the twinkle in his eye, which barely peaked out from under his hair, told another story.

 

“It’s not my place to say.”

 

“Ugh, Sado, you’re no fun,” Ichigo replied with a sigh, idly, stirring his ginger ale with a straw. “You keep so many secrets.”

 

“Yes, well, I’m quiet so people tend to fill the silence around me, Orihime especially.”

 

“And you’re too good of a guy to betray their confidence.”

 

“They never ask for my confidence, necessarily. People just tend to blurt stuff out around me. It’s actually really awkward, I’m not gonna lie.”

 

“I imagine.” Ichigo sipped at his drink thoughtfully.

 

The two sat in silence for a little while. The lack of conversation had never been uncomfortable to Ichigo. He had known Sado since high school, as he had Rukia and Orihime. Sado had always been like that, a consistent source of silent strength in their friend group.

 

“I suppose I don’t have to keep all the secrets though,” Sado suddenly blurted.

 

Ichigo perked right up, his back rigid against the vinyl padding of the booth. He didn’t want to seem too eager though, it was rare for Sado to gossip. “Mm? What’s that then?”

 

“Well.”

 

Ichigo took a big bite of pizza.

 

“I think Orihime is on a date right now.”

 

He choked on the pizza.

 

“Are- are you sure?”

 

“No, that’s why I said ‘I think’. This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Sado huffed, blowing the hair out of his face and briefly exposing both eyes.

 

“Nonono, sorry, Sado, I didn’t mean it in like, a mean way,” Ichigo tried to reconcile. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he wasn’t going to ruin it right at the beginning. “That’s amazing for her, I didn’t even know she liked anyone. We really are the only single friends left.”

 

“I don’t know that it’s anything like that,” Sado continued. “The guy she’s talking to, I don’t know if he realizes Orihime likes him. But they have been spending a lot of time together. At least, according to Hime they have.”

 

“Who’s this guy then? Do we know him?” He stabbed at ice cubes with his straw.

 

“You do. I don’t.”

 

“Please, Sado, be more vague.”

 

“He’s in your class. I don’t know his name.”

 

“She didn’t mention his name even once?”

 

“She did, I just forgot it.” Sado’s deep voice was annoyingly aloof.

 

“Forgot? Why bring it up?” Ichigo said, exasperated.

 

“You’re the one who wants to know so bad.”

 

“Wait- is it her lab partner? Ulquiorra?” Ichigo asked incredulously.

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Dang. I suppose that makes sense.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“She always stays after class with him.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Good for her though, I see it. The attraction I mean. He’s a good looking dude.”

 

“Jealous?”

 

“Oh no, not really,” Ichigo sighed. “Not of the guy anyway. Just jealous of the fact she can even talk to her lab partner.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. Grimmjow still won’t even talk to me. I’d be fine with it, really, but at a certain point it’s like, just ask me to hand you the fucking whisk if you need it.”

 

Sado laughed at that, a deep chuckle that made Ichigo smile too.

 

“That is unfortunate that you got paired with him,” the big man said, more seriously now. “I am surprised to see him again as well.”

 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the crazy part. He really just disappeared.”

 

“Mm. I suppose we can only hope he will open up to you enough to let you get through this class.”

 

Ichigo nodded. They were done with their meal now, but the restaurant wasn’t busy, and it was nice to sit in companionable silence with Sado.

 

“That’s cool for Orihime though,” Ichigo spoke up.

 

“Yes, it is nice to see her excited in someone.”

 

“Feels like it’s been forever since she dated someone.”

 

“Been a while since you dated someone too.”

 

“Yeah, well, no correlation. This isn’t about me.”

 

“Sort of.” Sado raised an eyebrow.

 

“Orihime and I never dated. She wanted to be more than friends, I said no, and that was that.”

 

“She did sulk for a while.”

 

“Yeah.” Ichigo sucked his teeth into a bit of a grimace. “Probably wasn’t as tactful as I should have been with the let down. But that was high school. She’s dated people since then.”

 

“Not seriously though.”

 

“When’s the last time you dated someone seriously?” Ichigo said accusingly.

 

Sado blushed, slipping back into his characteristic silence.

 

A huge smile broke across Ichigo’s face. “You sneak, you just want to get people to talk around you, getting their secrets for your collection. Meanwhile, you won’t even talk about your stuff. I know you get around...” Ichigo said, teasing.

 

Sado’s blush deepened across his tanned face. “How would you know?”

 

“Dude, you can only sleep with so many girls on the women’s team without it getting out.”

 

They both laughed, the sound echoing across the empty restaurant.

 

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Ichigo said smugly. He knew his friend was no open book, more of a locked vault really. Personal sharing time was over, and had lasted way longer than Ichigo would have guessed. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got about a million pages of reading to get done tonight.”

 

Sado sidled out of the booth, stretching up to his full height after being folded up for so long. “Good talk, Ichigo.”

 

“Good talk. Same time next week?”

***

Ichigo would not consider himself a violent guy. In fact, quite the opposite. He was bookish and kept to himself, and more often than not was the peacemaker among his friends. If Ichigo were to be honest with himself though, he loved a good fight. He had been the target of merciless bullying as a child, so much so that his parents had put him into karate classes. Even into high school, it was well known that he’d still throw hands with anyone that gave him a reason to.

 

It definitely wasn’t that he was violent. He just liked the way it felt to have your blood racing, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, and the satisfaction of being stronger than someone else. Was that wrong? Nah. Either way, now he channeled that energy into a weekly kickboxing class, one of many programs offered for free through the university’s health and fitness center.

 

He always went to the Tuesday class with his childhood friend, Tatsuki. They had gone all last year, never missing a single class, and Ichigo was keen to continue that tradition. She was just as rough as he was, and often put him in his place. With her, he didn’t feel like he had to go easy; most of the class was sorority girls, and while some of them were definitely bad ass, they were just there for a work out, not a full out brawl. Every Tuesday, Ichigo could count on this small reprieve from his regular life. It was like therapy sessions in a way. He always felt better after the class, which worked him out in a way that soccer practice never could.

 

Unfortunately, this past Tuesday and the subsequent 36 hours had been a string of disappointments. It had started with a text from Tatsuki, apologizing that she would have to miss their class today. Apparently her biology study group was refusing to reschedule because of an upcoming test. Fine. It was only three weeks into the semester, but a test is a test after all.

 

Later that day, at an impromptu lunch meet-up with Yumi and Ikkaku, he complained that he wouldn’t have his usual fighting partner. Yumichika’s response was to set him up on a blind date. It honestly was a bad idea from the start, and Ichigo had known it, but Yumichika wouldn’t take no for an answer. The guy was fine. Not in a hot way. Well, not that he wasn’t cute, but he was just, well, fine. There wasn’t really anything to him. The date that evening was, predictably, a bust.

 

Between that, his car battery dying after work on Wednesday, spilling his coffee during Shakespeare class, and the fact that they were out of everything bagels on Thursday morning, Ichigo was in a bad mood. Everything was just little inconveniences, but about halfway through the day, he really couldn’t take it anymore. He signed up for the next kickboxing class possible, which luckily was that same evening.  It was taught by the same instructor, so it would be just as good, he told himself. Even if it meant having a halfhearted match with D Phi E girl, it would be worth it just to sweat a little.

 

The instructor waved politely at Ichigo, who had changed into a relatively short pair of athletic shorts and an old soccer tee. Yoruichi and Ichigo had been friendly for a long time. In addition to teaching his regular kickboxing class, she coached the women’s intramural soccer team and was friends with Urahara. She spent a surprising amount of time on campus, and was known to make surprise appearances at parties, much to the delight of the straight members of the men’s teams. She started the class promptly, running them through some stretches and pairing them up like always. Ichigo realized with a sinking stomach that most of the people here probably had their own regular partners, too. God, it would be awkward if he was the odd one out.

 

His thoughts, which had started to spiral into a social anxiety vortex, were interrupted by the thud of the door against the wall. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez strode through the open door, water bottle in one hand and a small towel in the other, which he had slung casually over his shoulder. The image was, well, intimidating, one could say. He oozed confidence in a way that few could. Clearly this was his regular class. He sauntered over to an empty part of the room and began stretching as well, making no note of Ichigo in the back.

 

“Ah! Mr. Grimmjow, glad you could make it,” Yoruichi chirped. It wasn’t a sarcastic quip about his lateness, she seemed genuinely pleased about the situation. “I think you’re really going to like today’s class. I’m gonna pair you with someone else instead of sparing with you myself.” She pointed in Ichigo’s direction.

 

Laser-like eyes focused lightning intensity towards Ichigo, zeroing in on their target immediately. For the first moment his face was truly expressionless, shortly giving way to a crooked, manic grin.

 

A shudder ran down Ichigo’s spine, tingling through the tips of his fingers and toes. He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his own face. This was going to be more interesting than he could have possibly predicted.

 

Grimmjow straightened up from his stretching and crossed the room to Ichigo with fluid, predatory movements. Ichigo held his ground, a hand on his hip, trying desperately not to bounce his leg in nervous excitement.

 

“Kurosaki.”

 

“Jaegerjaquez.”

 

“Come here often?”

 

Ichigo flinched slightly at the remark. Was this a taunt? It was literally the first words Grimmjow had said to him the entire semester. “Do you?”

 

“I’m going to wipe the floor with you, Kurosaki,”Grimmjow said, completely ignoring Ichigo’s poor attempt at a come back. His eyes flashed something hard. He turned away and threw an arm out in a stretch. “Just like old times,” he added over his shoulder, his eyebrow arching and his wild, toothy smile only widening.

 

“We’ll see.” Ichigo said, though he felt pretty unsure. Being up close, it was clear that Grimmjow was fucking jacked. Like way more than he had been in high school. The loose tank top he wore did literally nothing to cover him. The dude was just straight up rippling musculature. Ichigo wasn’t ashamed of his body in any way, but his wiry frame seemed so much smaller in comparison.

 

Yoruichi had finished up warm ups and everyone had split into pairs around the large room. It wasn’t a very big class, so everyone had plenty of room to move around. Ichigo had wrapped his hands and put on his gloves, and turned to face his opponent while popping in his mouth guard.

 

Grimmjow stood across from him. He was tightening his gloves, then gave a couple short hops and jabs. Satisfied, he turned towards Ichigo, blue eyes swiveling over the ginger’s body, before sinking into a offensive stance. Taking the in the muscular man before him, Ichigo had one fleeting thought before he heard Yoruichi say “Go!”

 

This wasn’t going to be anything like fighting Tatsuki.

 

Grimmjow took off immediately, springing forward with two quick jabs and a kick from his right leg, aimed at Ichigo’s torso. Ichigo was forced on the defensive right away, simply trying to avoid the long reach of the man in front of him.

 

“This is your best? Que decepcionante,” Grimmjow said slowing his flurry of blows and backing off. None of his hits had actually landed, all of them either dodged or blocked, but it was clear he had Ichigo on the ropes. “I really thought you’d have improved after all these years.”

 

Ichigo didn’t respond to the taunt, instead used the moment as an opening to counter attack. He stepped into Grimmjow’s space, which for a moment, gave him the advantage. Grimmjow’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but settled back into the same half-crazed grin.

 

“That’s more like it!” Grimmjow said, and almost as if he was planning it all along, landed a punishing punch in Ichigo’s gut. “You’re finally starting to get somewhere, Kurosaki!”

 

Ichigo stumbled back. His opponent left the space between them, jumping in place and keeping himself loose. It seemed like he was barely sweating, while Ichigo wiped away the small lake of sweat that was gathering on his forehead.

 

Okay. So Grimmjow was stronger than him. And faster. That was obvious. Ichigo just had to get the upper hand. He just had to be faster right? Or at least, more accurate. And have more stamina. Easy. Easy?

 

Grimmjow stood to the side while Ichigo caught his breath. His smile faded into an unreadable mask, like he was taking in everything about his opponent. It only returned when Ichigo faced him again.

 

“Hold on, better grab this on the off chance you manage to hit me.” Grimmjow grabbed his own mouth guard, and biting down hard, showed off a mouthful of red plastic in Ichigo’s direction.

 

Ichigo jumped right back in to the next round. Determination was etched in the scowl lines of his face. There was no way he was going to get beaten so easily, if for no other reason than the fact that he was not going to put up with a whole semester of Grimmjow gloating.

 

That thought alone was enough to put some fire in his step. He lunged forward, dodging blows and throwing a few of his own until he finally found an opening. He sent a quick jab to Grimmjow’s jaw and quickly backed off, though his defense was still up.

 

Grimmjow looked shocked. He spat out his mouthguard and rubbed his jaw lightly with his forearm, smiling.

 

“I’m glad I grabbed that then. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

 

“You have no idea what I have in me,” Ichigo said, fiercely, though it was garbled and lispy from his own dental protection.

 

Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow. “To each his own, Kurosaki. Sounds like none of my business.”

 

Ichigo’s face flushed brilliantly. “I- Fuck off!” he sputtered. Instead of waiting for a response, he flung himself back into the fight, leaving no time for a rebuttal.

 

Few words passed between them. For the remainder of the class, their exchanges were only physical, the pace continuing to quicken and each of them getting in a few more solid points. They were tied by the time Yoruichi ended class, reluctantly splitting apart at the sound of the whistle. Ichigo would never admit it, but he was glad there was a reason to stop. He felt completely worn out and was positively dripping in sweat, not in a sexy way. Grimmjow, however, it somehow worked for him. It was clear that his partner had gotten a real work out in as well, but inexplicably, it seemed natural for him.

 

“Good fight,” Ichigo said, removing his right glove and extending a still-wrapped hand to Grimmjow.

 

The other eyed it suspiciously, but extended his own hand and grasped Ichigo’s fingers awkwardly, his own wrappings making it impossible for a proper handshake. “Yeah, you too.” Grimmjow turned away and began to collect his things. He was out the door before Ichigo could say anything else.

 

“That was pretty entertaining to watch.”

 

Ichigo jumped. Yoruichi had snuck up behind him, quiet as a cat, pulling him out of his trance of watching the blue haired man exit.

 

“Uh, yeah, haha, it was a good fight,” Ichigo agreed nervously.

 

“I never see you go that hard against Tatsuki,” she smiled. After he didn’t respond she pressed on, giving Ichigo a playful nudge with her elbow. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to be his partner today. It really gets exhausting.”

 

“Haha, yeah, I can imagine.” Ichigo struggled to keep eye contact. He was coming down from an adrenaline rush and he knew it.

 

“Am I going to be seeing you in Thursday classes more frequently then?”

 

“Ah, well, probably not. Just this week.”

 

“Shame. I think the two of you could really force each other to improve,” she said with a slight sigh and a flip of her ponytail. “See you on Tuesday, then!” With a slight wave, she moved on to talk to the other students who were slowly filing out of the room.

 

It was definitely a good fight. Ichigo hadn’t fought like that since, well, the last time he had fought Grimmjow. Obviously the situation had changed, though. This time there were rules; they weren’t in a back alleyway doing anything and everything to get the upper hand against the other. Now they were better fighters. They didn’t need to fight dirty, and Ichigo didn’t want to. All he wanted was to compare strength and stamina and skill.

 

Ichigo had found his way into the locker room showers, and leaned against the cold bathroom tile for just a moment as the warm water rushed over overworked muscles. Did Grimmjow feel like he did now? Like he had used every ounce of his energy in their exchanges? Tomorrow was his cooking class with Grimmjow, and he knew he was going to sore. If he was lucky, though, Grimmjow was going to have a striking bruise on his jaw, and Ichigo couldn’t wait to see if he had left his mark.


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s going to be fun, I promise,” Orihime said, turning to face Ichigo. 

 

“The more you reassure me, the worse I feel about agreeing to come.” Ichigo was teasing of course, but he wasn’t lying.

 

“I know, I know, I’m just glad you came and I want you to have a good time. Ulquiorra told me that there’s always food and wine at these things, so it can’t be all bad right?” Orihime continued to babble. “Besides, I promised him I would come, and it’s his only show this semester,  _ and _ he told me that I’m in it, so I kind of have to go, right?”

 

“Wait you’re in it?”

 

“Yeah, one of the photos is of me. Didn’t I tell you? ”

 

“No, I think I’d remember. I didn’t realize you guys were hanging out that much outside of class.” Sado had let on that something was going on, but this was the first time that Orihime herself was mentioning it.

 

“Well it’s mostly to study and practice recipes for class ahead of time. He disagrees with my flavor profiles.”

 

That was fair, Ichigo thought. Orihime was infamous for pairing nasty things together. He’d seen her get a strawberry milkshake and a tuna sandwich at the same time, and had never fully recovered. Their regular waitress at their favorite diner had gotten a very good poker face after three years of taking Orihime’s orders.

 

“So what’s the photo? Did he take it in the kitchen, or is it a tasteful nude? A nude in the kitchen?” Ichigo teased. 

 

Orihime turned crimson, several shades darker than her hair.

 

“I- Well! No! I don’t take nudes! I mean... I haven’t for him! I don’t even want to if that’s what you’re saying,” Orihime said, sputtering.

 

“Orihime. I’m kidding. You can take nudes with whoever you want.”

 

“Right. Of course. Because, well, feminism.” Orihime ended succinctly.

 

Ichigo’s laughter echoed down the hall of the art building. Can’t argue with that logic. She did look dressed up a bit, though. The hem of her dress was a bit higher than what she would have normally worn, and a hint of makeup dusted her face. 

 

“Where is this place supposed to be?” Ichigo said, looking around at an intersection in the hallways.

 

“I don’t know, I always get lost in this building. He said it was on the first floor, so it can’t be that hard to find.”

 

They turned down another hall and heard the buzz of conversation coming from the other end. 

 

“Must be this way then?” Ichigo guestured, letting Orihime lead the way. 

 

At the end of the hall, a glass doorway opened into a well lit gallery. Despite the fact that it was a Wednesday, it was full of people, all talking loudly over the light instrumental music playing. The walls were covered in photo prints, each framed expertly on mat board and hung at eye level. Orihime saw Ulquiorra immediately, and rushed over to him, leaving Ichigo in the dust. Ulquiorra’s face, usually a mask, betrayed a small smile quirking up at the corner of his mouth as Orihime crushed him into a bear hug. 

 

Ichigo was left to his own devices. He knew it would happen, despite Orihime’s vehement promises to stay by his side all night. Ichigo smiled. It was just like Orihime to get caught up in the moment, and it was obvious that she liked this Ulquiorra guy, for whatever reason. He seemed like the reverse of Orihime’s bubbly personality, but opposites attract, right? 

 

He helped himself to one of the glasses of cheap red wine on the counter by the door. If he was going to be here awkwardly alone, he might as well make the most of it. His cup balancing precariously on a small paper plate, heaped with sliced cheese and crackers, Ichigo began to make his way around the gallery.

 

The first photo Ichigo stopped at was of a familiar location. It was a stone bench under a large, old tree, who’s gnarled branches hung over the sidewalk. In the springtime, when it was fully in bloom, it was a popular spot for first kisses and proposals, so much so that it was a thing among sorority girls to get asked out there. In this photo, two women sat comfortably under it. Autumn leaves were falling, poetically framing them. One woman was whispering into the other’s ear. Her companion, probably her girlfriend, had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide open in shock and delight. It was an incredible picture. The quality of light was soft and intimate. It felt personal, but not intrusive, to be part of the moment they were sharing. 

 

Ichigo moved on to the next one. It was a shot of three men, clearly brothers. All of them had their heads thrown back in laughter. Each photo seemed to be of a group of people, all sharing an intimate moment of friendship or love. It was shocking to see how well they were captured, especially since everything Ichigo knew of Ulquiorra involved him being relatively solitary. He couldn’t think of anyone he had a relationship with, friendly or otherwise, other than Orihime. And, well, Grimmjow. 

 

Ichigo turned to the next photo and was shocked. It was Orihime. Of course, he had known coming in that there would be a photo of her in the show, but this felt like more like a window into her as a person. She was kneeling in front of an oven, sitting all the way back on her bare feet. One hand was up, resting on the handle of the oven door. Her face was glowing, a look of excitement plastered there. The door reflected her expression, a gorgeous pie baking inside, visible through the glass. 

 

She looked gorgeous. Ichigo had known Orihime for a long time, and this picture captured everything that he knew about her. Her softness, her enthusiasm, her joy for cooking. If Ulquiorra could capture her like this, Ichigo thought, no doubt he liked her back. 

 

Ichigo wanted to find them, and give his compliments to Ulquiorra of course, but when he looked around the room, they weren’t there. The room wasn’t so large that there would be anywhere to hide. It was full of strangers, or so Ichigo thought. As he surveyed the room, he locked eyes with someone he did know. 

 

Grimmjow was leaning in a corner, arms crossed and clutching a plastic cup of wine. His blue eyes held Ichigo’s for a long moment. Ichigo refused to break the gaze, stubbornness winning out over his desire to physically flee the room. Luckily, their stare off was interrupted by a tall, eccentric looking, green haired girl flinging herself at Grimmjow. The startled look on his face was something Ichigo would hold dear for the rest of his life, he thought. 

 

Ichigo took the opportunity to move on to the next photo, and coincidentally, he was met with the same blue eyes. This photo was of just Grimmjow. He knew that Grimmjow and Ulquiorra were friends, but it still surprised Ichigo to see a photo of Grimmjow that was so personal, the way Orihime’s portrait had been. 

 

Grimmjow sat in front of an easel in a tight, paint spattered tank top. The canvas was only half covered in paint, and the beginnings of a harsh, mountainous landscape were starting to appear. He was sitting informally, half squatting on a stool, one leg up on a rung, the other splayed out to the side. He was twisting his body to face the camera, one hand running through his hair, the other pointing a paintbrush back towards the lens. 

 

The most captivating part of the photo was not the vibrant eyes or hair, nor the muscular arms and back, but the wide, genuine smile spread across Grimmjow’s face. It was an expression Ichigo had never seen him wear, and that in and of itself was interesting. It was not the manic one that he wore while they had sparred, nor was it the smirk that would flash across his face during petty spats in class. Besides that, his posture in the photo was relaxed and unprotected, so unlike the tense and closed off way Ichigo had always seen him. Ichigo couldn’t help but look around for the man again, hoping to compare this image to the body he had just seen lurking in the corner. 

 

Grimmjow was gone. Ichigo’s eyes returned to the photo, and self-consciously, he realized how it might seem weird if he took too long looking at it. With one last glance, he started to move on to the next one, mentally noting that there had only been two solo portraits.

 

“Stare much?”

 

Ichigo fully collided with Grimmjow, who was standing exactly where Ichigo had intended to go. Luckily, he had already drank most of his free wine, and didn’t spill any on the crisp white button up the other man wore. 

 

“It’s a good picture,” Ichigo said, recovering from the collision, his tone cool. 

 

“They’re all good pictures.” 

 

“Uh, yeah, I’ve enjoyed them. Ulquiorra is very talented.” 

 

Ichigo couldn’t help but feel awkward. They were talking now, at least, since their kickboxing class together. Just little moments of small talk and general niceties in class that were much better than silence, but Grimmjow never went out of his way to start conversation. Should he take advantage of it? Maybe they could start to find common ground, and hopefully make the rest of their semester less awful? Or were they just bound to snipe back and forth at each other?

 

“So you guys are close?” Ichigo gestured at the picture.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I didn’t know you painted.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Is that... is that your major?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you going to have your own gallery here as well?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“When is it?”

 

“Why do you want to know?”

 

The question was pointed, emphasized by narrowed eyes and crossed arms. 

 

“I’m just being polite,” Ichigo tried to reason, more annoyed than anything. It’s called small talk. Did the guy just not know how to have a conversation?

 

“Why are you at this one? I never see you in this building.”

 

“Orihime asked me to come.” 

 

“Oh yeah, she’s got it bad for Ulquiorra.” Grimmjow spat out with a laugh. Not the kind one in the photo, but harder, and more for show than anything.

 

“Why do you have to say it like that?” Ichigo said, feeling defensive of his friend.

 

“Untwist your panties. It’s obvious, they’re constantly hanging out and Ulquiorra’s just as bad. You just can’t tell because the dude has the expression range of a dead fish.”

 

Ichigo actually coughed out a laugh at that one, caught off guard. He didn’t expect Grimmjow to have a sense of humor. At least he could now confirm Sado’s insider gossip. “So what’s keeping them from getting together if they both like each other?”

 

“They’re both idiots? How am I supposed to know? I can’t be bothered trying to make Ulquiorra see what’s in front of him, and I don’t get involved in relationship shit.”

 

“Oh yeah? Just a hit it and quit it type of guy?” Ichigo said, attempting a playful jibe.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Keep it in your pants, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said with one cocked eyebrow and a joking tone. He started to walk away when Ichigo reached out and grabbed his arm.

 

“I’m kidding, you know,” Ichigo started to say, but Grimmjow ripped his arm from Ichigo’s grasp as if it were fire, his eyes blazing.

 

“Sorry,” Ichigo said in a level tone. He didn't know what for, but there were already people looking at them. He didn’t want to make it worse.

 

Grimmjow turned away again, for real this time, and started to stalk out of the room. He was ambushed by the same crazy looking artsy girl with green hair, and she followed him out of the room like a child, as he pointedly ignored her. 

 

Orihime came back over moments later. 

 

“What was all that?”

 

“Nothing, I think. We started to have like, 10% of a real conversation and he got scared and ran off,” Ichigo said, his annoyance fully setting in.

 

“Sounds rough.”

 

“Yeah, well, at least I tried. Can’t say as much for him.” 

 

“Well, don’t sulk about it. Ulquiorra’s got to shut this down soon, so let’s head out.” The crowd around them was winding down and only a few people were left. 

 

“Thank you for the invite, your work is beautiful,” Ichigo said to Ulquiorra on their way out the door. 

 

“Thank you. I am glad you came.” Ulquiorra spoke flatly, but his eyes bulged comically when Orihime hugged him tightly around the waist. 

 

“Bye! See you in class tomorrow!” she exclaimed, still waving as she turned the corner out of the room. Ichigo could have sworn he had seen Ulquiorra’s mouth twitch up in what could reasonably be qualified as a smile.

 

Once they were out of the building walking back towards their dorm, Ichigo got to questioning.

 

“Where did you guys go? I couldn’t find you for a while.”

 

“Oh! Ulquiorra was just showing me the dark room! It’s super interesting! He had a bunch more prints in there and I got to try on his gloves! Film is cool, don’t you think?” Orihime babbled excitedly. 

 

“Mmm, the dark room huh?” Ichigo said, suggestively. “He didn’t try to put a move on you in there did he?”

 

“Wha- No! He! I don’t even think that he was thinking about that!” Orihime said, blushing defensively.

 

“Oh, but you were then?”

 

“No! I wasn’t!” Orihime’s blush had fully engulfed her face. 

 

“Chill, its fine, according to Grimmjow, he likes you too.”

 

“He said that?”

 

“Yeah, that’s what we were talking about.”

 

“And that made him storm off?” Orihime questioned.

 

“Oh, no,” Ichigo said. “I touched his arm, which apparently triggered a fight or flight thing. You know, from all the fighting we did. Well,  _ do _ , I guess.” Ichigo rolled his eyes. He knew he messed up, but to be fair, Grimmjow had really overreacted. Right? 

 

“Hm, well what were you talking about when you touched him?” Orihime said thoughtfully.

 

“Uh, well, he made a passing remark implying I wanted to sleep with him.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“He’d probably kill me before I even got close. I mean he’s hot, but god, at what cost?” Ichigo joked. 

 

Orihime laughed and turned the conversation elsewhere, talking about each of the photos at the gallery. But now the question had been asked. He could barely talk to the guy, but did he want to fuck Grimmjow? He certainly was attractive, and their kickboxing match had definitely been playfully homoerotic when you looked at it a certain way. It was playing in the back of his mind as he dropped Orihime off at her dorm, conveniently located right next to his. 

 

Ichigo laid in bed as the cheap wine wore off, trying to forget Orihime’s question, but the seed had been planted. He decided that if he ever wanted a quick and dirty hate fuck, he knew who to call.

 

***

Nine out of ten times, if you were going on a first date, you were going to Two Worlds. This coffee shop/bar was hidden a few blocks away from campus. What was once an old, two story family home had been renovated long ago; the first floor was now a cozy coffee shop absolutely packed with fairy lights, couches, and little tables, the basement a true dive bar and music venue, a bit grungier than the shop above, but the atmosphere was still intimate and dim. 

 

The place was immensely popular; if you yourself didn’t work there, you had a friend, or your friend had a friend, who did, or at least used to. While the two floors were technically separate, the coffee shop, called Seireitei, would serve a hot toddy or Irish coffee if you asked, and more often than not, the bartender downstairs at Hueco Mundo would start giving out coffees at a certain hour if you looked like you really needed it. 

 

It was at Hueco Mundo that Grimmjow found himself one Friday night, slogging through his fifth drink of the night and feeling it. Every month, local punk bands played there, and Nel had dragged him and Ulquiorra along to the gig. They had friends playing; their band was called The Espada, but honestly they weren’t great. Not to mention that every time they had a show, he was forced in some way or another to go. The only upside was the free drink tokens that were given to the band, which Grimmjow always made sure to take advantage of. Plus, he and the bartender were as close to being friends as anything else; they guy spoke Spanish, which was great, cause after a few drinks, the lines got blurred. 

 

The Espada hadn’t even gone on yet. They were the last band of the night, scheduled to go on 45 minutes ago, and yet the band that came before them was still playing. Damn venue needed to learn how to run a show. It was grating. Their drummer could barely manage to keep a beat, and each song would eventually dissolve into clashing instruments, pushing Grimmjow to order another drink. Not that the drummer for The Espada was much better. But the last time he’d said that to Yammy’s face, they’d both ended up with black eyes. 

 

As if his thoughts were destined to manifest, Yammy spied Grimmjow across the packed bar and made a beeline for him, drumsticks in hand.

 

“There you are, man. It’s crazy down here. I fuckin’ can’t believe we still haven’t gone on yet.”

 

“Yeah me neither.” Grimmjow replied, as bored sounding as he possibly could in an attempt to dissuade the massive drummer from continuing to talk to him. He ordered another drink, turning away from the nuisance now sitting at the bar next to him. 

 

“I think we should play an extra long set just to get back at them.”

 

“How exactly does that fuckin’ help? Tonto.”

 

“It’s just to stick it to the venue.”

 

“Why, so they can kick you off and never book you again?”

 

“They haven’t kicked off this band. It’s probably cause it’s all girls.” Yammy scowled over to the trio still on stage. The three girls, apparently called Tres Bestias, were launching into a new song.

 

“The fuck does that have to do with it?”

 

“They probably just slept with the person who booked ‘em, you know?”

 

“Eh? What’s fuckin’ wrong with you? They’ve been off schedule since the first fuckin’ act.” Grimmjow’s voice was steadily rising in volume.

 

“All I’m saying is these bitches are obviously better at sucking dick than they are at playing music.” Yammy started to get blotchy in the face, matching Grimmjow’s tone. 

 

The bartender eyed the situation warily. This was not the first time Grimmjow and Yammy had gotten into a yelling match, and historically, it could go a number of ways. Across the room, Ulquiorra saw the escalating situation, and darted over with unnerving speed and a neutral expression. 

 

“Grimmjow I need you to get me something.” he interjected, catching Grimmjow’s fist before it slammed onto the bar counter. 

 

Grimmjow wheeled around with a wild expression, arm raised, not realizing who was talking to him. His face softened for a moment when he recognized his friend, but he was still mad, damn it. 

 

“Dude, I’m sick of you saying shit about women like that, it’s ignorant as fuck and it’s no wonder no one wants to fucking date you.”

 

“Yeah, well then what’s your excuse for not dating anyone, you fucking cock sucker? You sit here using up all our fucking free drinks and can’t even manage to approach one person? No one fucking likes you, idiot, so you can quit it with this piss poor charade of standing up for a bunch of sluts!” Yammy yelled back.

 

The girls on stage had just finished their last song in time for “bunch of sluts!” to ring out across the entire room. Every pair of eyes turned towards the trio at the bar, all of them standing and looking ready to throw hands. 

 

“Grimmjow, why don’t you go get a coffee?” Ulquiorra suggested lightly, pressing an unknown amount of cash into Grimmjow’s hand. 

 

Grimmjow held the tension a little longer, unwilling to break the malicious stare off between he and Yammy. 

 

“Grimmjow.” A flicker of warning in Ulquiorra’s tone finally did it. Without another word, Grimmjow grabbed his glass and drained the remainder of his drink before turning and stomping out the door. 

 

Puta madre. Not fighting was hard. 

 

The only thing he wanted to do was break Yammy’s nose. Not like he hadn’t done it before. In his mind, he replayed the sickening crunch he’d caused years ago. Back in high school, when it was all brawling, all the time. 

 

He’d still brawl if he could, but he’d made a promise. He wouldn’t risk losing his scholarships. His mom had been so proud when he got it, and it was the only reason he could even go to school in the first place. Not that Grimmjow was an idiot, no, he was fucking smart. He earned his right to be there. 

 

The thought of his mom in the kitchen the day he got his acceptance letter was what always steadied him. He’d been taller than her since the seventh grade, and now, standing at full height, her head was buried in his chest. Her arms were wrapped around him, the letter in her hands. She wasn’t crying, but she wiped her eyes when she looked up at Grimmjow. “Mi hijo. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti. Cada día, trabaja duro.  No para mi pero para ti.”

 

That memory always stuck with him, no matter how simple it was. He kept his fighting to kickboxing only, just for her. He’d be damned if he ever made her cry out of anything but happiness again. He’d seen her cry so much, especially around that time in their lives. Fuck. He really was a sad drunk, huh?

 

For whatever reason, Seireitei was open nearly as late as the bar. This was especially good during midterms and finals, but now, it meant that the shop was completely deserted. Grimmjow entered, the bell tinkling behind him. Not a soul was in sight. Good. He made his way towards a particularly poofy arm chair in the corner and sat down. It was weird to be in the shop so late at night, he’d only ever been in during regular hours. Now what.

 

“Hey I’ll be right out, sorry!” a voice called in the general direction of the main counter. Grimmjow didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t want coffee anyway, and was too drunk to really want to talk to a stranger.

 

“If you want any of the baked goods up front, just grab one. I have to throw them away at the end of the night anyway so just take it!” 

 

Now that had some intrigue. Grimmjow stood up. A little too fast. Those drinks were catching up. Trying not to stumble, he made his way up to the counter and locked eyes with a massive cinnamon roll. How had that been sitting there all day and still manage to look so good. Squatting, Grimmjow made himself eye level with the pastry cabinet, eyeing everything in there greedily, but he kept coming back to that cinnamon roll which looked more tempting than anything he’d ever seen.

 

“Okay, I’m coming, sorry about that,” the voice called out as the barista turned the corner out of the back room. “Oh, I’m sorry.” The barista jumped back a bit when he saw the customer. 

 

“What are you sorry for?” Grimmjow straightened up, his balance slightly off, and looked Ichigo squarely in the eye. 

 

Ichigo stood rigidly in the doorway. “I just didn’t realize it was you.” His expression was betrayed nothing, but under the counter, Grimmjow saw him nervously fiddling with a dish towel.

 

“Why does it matter if it’s me?”

 

“It doesn’t. What can I get for you?” Ichigo’s face quickly became a mask as he slipped into an obvious customer service mode. 

 

“Eh, nevermind.” Grimmjow turned away. He didn’t have to do this today. The kid was always so jumpy around him, especially the few times they’d run into each other outside of class. It made him want to go back to not talking at all. It would be easier to just go sit in the comfy chair he had picked out and close his eyes until Ulquiorra and Nel came to get him.

 

Some time passed. Not very much, as far as Grimmjow could tell. He had just started to get comfy when he heard the distinct clink of ceramic being set on the coffee table and the sagging of furniture as a person settled in on the couch across from him. He stubbornly told himself not to open his eyes, but the smell of a warm pastry wafted over so temptingly, he couldn’t stop himself. 

 

First one eye cracked open suspiciously, then another. Glistening, dripping in icing, the cinnamon bun sat on a white plate. Grimmjow’s eyes opened wide for a second, but quickly returned to normal when he caught sight of the smirk on Ichigo’s face.

 

“Is that the one you wanted?” Ichigo asked smugly, clearly knowing the answer.

 

Though he desperately wanted to deny it, to act cool and dismissive, he just couldn’t. With his inhibitions as lowered as they were, something primal kicked in. There was no way he was going to leave that roll alone. Ichigo wasn’t so bad, anyway.

 

“How did you know?” Grimmjow asked a little incredulously, not looking away from the treat.

 

“Just had a feeling. You a buns guy?” Ichigo’s eyes glimmered in the low light, a smile playing at his lips.

 

Grimmjow just stared back blankly. “What? Who isn’t? Buns have always been my favorite.”

 

Ichigo’s laughter was surprisingly contagious and charming, even if he didn’t get it. Plus he was drunk and excited about the snack, whatever. Weirdo Kurosaki, laughing at nothing. Smiling despite himself, he grabbed the plate off the coffee table and started to dig in. 

 

“Oh man, did you make this? Que dulce...” Grimmjow said between mouthfuls. 

 

“We’re in a cooking class together, I think you’d know if I was any good at cooking.” He had a point. “But actually, my little sister made this one,” Ichigo continued. “She’s insane at cooking and baking, and just started here part time. She comes in before her morning classes sometimes, the maniac.”

 

“Howb bold iff yer sifter?” Grimmjow said, not bothering to close his mouth while chewing. 

 

“I’ve got two, they’re twins. Just turned 18, the little freshmen.” Ichigo’s eyes shone a little bit with unmistakable pride. “Do you have any siblings?”

 

“Nah...” Grimmjow continued eating. “Jubst me n’ mi madre.” With a forced swallow, he looked at Ichigo, probably longer than a sober person would. 

 

“What?” Ichigo said, uncomfortably. 

 

“Nothing. I didn’t know you worked here,” Grimmjow replied, not realizing his stare. “This what you do in between getting your ass kicked, huh?”

 

“Yeah, what’s wrong with having a job?”

 

“Nothing, I just didn’t know.”

 

A moment passed between them. Ichigo didn’t bother to say anything. The moment stretched out into comfortable silence as Grimmjow finished his treat. It was nice to be here, he thought. Cozy, peaceful, pleasant really. He could stay in that chair, in Ichigo’s company for quite some time, but maybe that was just the alcohol talking.

 

When he looked back, the barista had stretched out on the couch, long legs seeming to make up his entire body. His eyes were closed and Grimmjow studied his face as the boy’s guarded mask dissolved into an expression he’d never seen. Ichigo looked tired, but not like any exhausted college student. He somehow seemed like a little boy who had fallen asleep on the car ride home and had to be picked up and carried into the house. 

 

“Que soñioliento, este niño,” Grimmjow whispered to himself. Ichigo didn’t move. Maybe he was actually sleeping. It really seemed like it. His breaths had slowed and deepened enough that Grimmjow thought maybe he should wake him up. I mean, he was at work, and even if he was the only one on the clock, it was probably bad to pass out on a couch. 

 

Standing shakily, the world spinning around him, Grimmjow crossed over to where Ichigo rested peacefully. He planted himself on the couch, scooting Ichigo over slightly, and leaned over him, giving his shoulder a shake.

 

“Kurosaki.” A nudge to the sleeping boy’s frame. “Kurosaki...” He didn’t stir. Man, when this kid went out, he was out. Or maybe he was just exhausted? It seemed like it was too early in the semester to be this tired, but then again, it was practically midterms. Classes were in full swing by now. 

 

Grimmjow lowered himself right next to Ichigo’s face, practically all his weight on the other boy’s chest. He shifted in protest, subconsciously uncomfortable, and it showed in little creases on his face, but still it seemed that was not enough to make him get up. 

 

“Hey. Hey, Ichigo. Ichi. Ichi, get up.”

 

With a sharp intake of breath, the slender frame underneath him shuddered awake, brown eyes fluttering open. They widened, only inches away from Grimmjow’s own. It took a second for Ichigo to fully realize what was happening, though Grimmjow, despite having been conscious for it all, didn’t quite. 

 

“What are you doing?” Ichigo was breathless still, the weight of the considerably larger man preventing him from taking full breaths. 

 

“You were asleep and you wouldn’t wake up.”

 

“So you got on top of me?” An angry edge slipped into the boy’s voice that Grimmjow didn’t quite understand. With a surprisingly strong shove, Ichigo pushed the man off of his chest and managed to prop himself up onto his elbows. Grimmjow remained hovering over him, however, supporting his weight on arms that caged either side of Ichigo’s head. 

 

“Please get off me.” It wasn’t actually a request. Ichigo’s once sleepy, relaxed face was quickly deepening into a scowl. “You need to get off of me now.”

 

Ichigo’s protests were cut off by the ring of the bell above the door. Simultaneously, the pair on the couch snapped their heads towards the door, smacking into each other. The initial pain of the contact wasn’t long lasting, but sharp hiss from Ichigo echoed in his mind far longer than the dull throbbing where they had connected.

 

Ulquiorra stood just inside the doorway, a mixture of shock and confusion on his face. “Am I interrupting?” he said, somehow toneless and mockingly accusatory at the same time. 

 

“Ichi fell asleep,” Grimmjow laughed and rubbed the side of his head. He got to his feet, too fast. With a stumble, he caught his weight on the arm of the couch, nearly falling back onto the boy beneath him. The movement made the alcohol slosh in his stomach uncomfortably. 

 

“Ichi, huh? Cute nickname.” The barest trace of a smile tickled Ulquiorra’s mouth. 

 

Ichigo scrambled to stand up, his face scrunched. “Nothing was happening!”

 

Confusion spread across Grimmjow’s face. “Of course nothing happened.” What did he even mean? What’s wrong with waking him up? Would he rather have slept at work, door unlocked? Idiot. 

 

“Well, let’s get you home, Grimmjow. I am tired, so bet you are, too.”

 

“‘Kay.” He was tired. He stretched languidly, and padded over to the door. He suddenly felt acutely aware of the buzzing in his head. Man, he was gonna regret drinking like this tomorrow. For now, it was a pleasant hum, softening the world around him.

 

“Your jacket.” Ichigo was now standing, holding Grimmjow’s coat in one hand and his head in the other.

 

“Got it,” Ulquiorra said as he crossed quickly back to where Ichigo stood. Ichigo handed it over, but took the moment to whisper a few words in Ulquiorra’s ear. Whatever he said made the dark haired man’s eyebrow twitch. He returned to the door where Grimmjow waited not-so-patiently. “Let’s go, you, before you start any more trouble.”

 

“I’m not starting it,” Grimmjow grumbled. He followed the slender, shorter man out into a surprisingly chilly night. 

 

“Put this on, Nel is coming around with the car,” Ulquiorra said, handing the worn leather jacket to Grimmjow. “You really must remember boundaries when you are drunk.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grimmjow looked blankly back into the windows of the shop. The light spilled out onto the crisp leaves that piled around the shop, and Ichigo could be seen walking around inside, picking up the plate that Grimmjow had left behind.

 

“Case in point. Thank you for proving that so succinctly.” Ulquiorra opened the back door to Nel’s little red hatchback and motioned for Grimmjow to enter. “Do not forget your seatbelt, please.”

 

Grimmjow was silent the whole ride home, only catching fragments of Nel’s one-sided conversation with Ulquiorra. Before he knew it, they were outside his dorm. 

 

“Do you need help to your room?” Nel asked, turning in the driver’s seat to face her passenger. 

 

“No, I got it.” With a nod from Ulquiorra, he exited the car. Autopilot got Grimmjow up to his floor. In the bathroom, he shed his coat and stuck his face under the sink faucet, taking long, greedy gulps of the tap water. When he finally felt sated, he pulled off his tee shirt as well, and used it to wipe his face. 

 

What a weird night. It certainly wasn’t what he thought he’d end up doing, but it wasn’t all bad. In bed, his final thoughts before he lost consciousness were of the cinnamon bun, and ways he could get his hands on another. He’d have to visit Kurosaki at work again sometime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We* love changing the perspective!
> 
> *me
> 
> Thanks for tuning in to my self indulgent AU in which I borrow stories from college and make it a slow burn with no real conflict other than that of misdirected sexual tension. That's college, baby! There will be more! Eventually! Love and joy to everyone who has dropped a kudos! 
> 
> Next time- MIDTERMS


	4. Chapter 4

Tatsuki: Claaaaasssss todayyyyyy!!!! ✨✨✨✨ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

 

Ichigo’s phone buzzed on the bathroom counter while he brushed his teeth. He was buzzing with excitement too, and hadn’t even had coffee yet. It had only been a week since their last class, and nearly two since his weird class with Grimmjow, but Ichigo felt like he could never get enough. 

 

The day could not go by fast enough. Even the classes that he normally enjoyed dragged on. He found himself watching the clock until 5 pm, when he dashed out of the lecture hall and started a direct route to the university’s fitness center. 

 

He made it to the locker room by 5:15, plenty of time to get ready for a 5:30 class. By the time he had changed and left, Tatsuki was waiting outside for him, an orange in hand. 

 

“Here, I know you haven’t eaten anything.”

 

“What? I definitely have,” Ichigo scoffed. 

 

“Yeah? When was that? 10am?”

 

“I-“ he thought for a moment, “you got me there.”

 

Ichigo started peeling, eating the soft, juicy insides appreciatively. Tatsuki really was a secret mom friend. She liked to act all tough but, like Rukia, couldn’t help but be a little protective. 

 

They both wandered into the large classroom. Most of the small class had arrived and were doing preliminary stretches on the mats. Among them, a practically shirtless, blue haired monster of a man was seated on the ground, legs spread wide open as he touched his toes. His face split into the wild smile Ichigo hadn’t seen since the last time they had fought, and he sent a two fingered, half wave, half salute in Ichigo’s direction. 

 

“Oye, Kurosaki.”

 

Ichigo turned to Tatsuki warily. “Should I?”

 

“It’ll probably be worse if you don’t.”

 

He tried to be confident as he strode across the room. Instead, he was trying to not look at just how much skin Grimmjow had exposed. His shorts were  _ short,  _ the lunging stretch he had changed to did little to help the situation. That tank top too- God, at a certain point just don’t wear a shirt. Ichigo’s mind flickered back the the previous Friday at the coffee shop, the compromising position they had been in, and the feeling of Grimmjow’s weight on him. It took all his composure to keep him from blushing furiously at the other man’s complete lack of decency. 

 

“Surprised to see you here,” Ichigo said coolly. He continued to peel away at the orange in his hand, sucking on the rind like he had when he was a child at soccer games.  

 

“Thursdays just don’t work for my schedule anymore,” Grimmjow shrugged, starting in on a lunge on the other leg. 

 

“Why’s that?” The rind popped out of his mouth, and Ichigo crammed it into his fist with other scraps of the peel.

 

“Nosy, aren’t you?” Blue eyes squinted, dark lashes and splash of teal eyeliner framing them. They darted back and forth from Ichigo’s hand to his mouth, or was Ichigo imagining that?

 

“I- you’re the one who brought it up,” Ichigo said, getting agitated with every word. 

 

“Not really. You asked why I was here,” came the unaffected reply. 

 

“Yeah, and you called me over!” Ichigo’s voice rose. 

 

“Me da igual,” Grimmjow said with a shrug. He closed his eyes as he smoothly transitioned into another stretch. “That’s how you greet people Kurosaki, just basic fuckin’ manners.”

 

Manners? MANNERS? Coming from the guy that wouldn’t speak to him for a full three weeks and then basically dry humped him the previous weekend? That was fucking rich. Ichigo just turned on his heel. 

 

“Hey, you got a partner?” Grimm called out.

 

“Yup!” Ichigo replied sharply, not even looking back over his shoulder. 

 

Tatsuki was still over by the door, going through her own warm up. “What’d he want?”

 

“I think he wants to fight me.” Ichigo said. His face scrunched up in confusion. 

 

“Sucks for him, I’m gonna be the one to take you down today,” Tatsuki laughed, sending a short, fake jab at Ichigo’s shoulder. 

 

“Alright, partner up! Here’s the pairings,” Yoruichi called from the front of the class. “Tatsuki, you’re with me...”

 

Ichigo knew, deep in his gut, what was coming next. The acid from the citrusy fruit he just ate burned in his mouth as he practically blacked out. 

######  _ *** _

“Keep your elbows in, Ichigo, you’re getting sloppy.” Yoruichi and Tatsuki has stopped their own sparring at this point. The instructor had decided it would be much more interesting to harass him from the sidelines instead. Consequently, most of the class had stopped to watch as well. 

 

Grimmjow was going in hard. There was no taunting banter this time, his jaw was firmly clamped around his mouth guard, but every now and then, especially after a either of them managed to land something on the other, there would be a flash of bright orange plastic in his mouth. It looked like an orange rind that he had left in his mouth, the image so striking that Ichigo couldn’t help but wonder if Grimmjow had gotten a new mouth guard. There was no way it was orange last ti-

 

_ SMACK _

 

A quick strike to Ichigo’s gut doubled him over. Grimmjow backed off, hopping in place, his fists still up. 

 

“Nice one, Grimm. Ichigo, you should have been able to block that,” Yoruichi yelled, unhelpfully.

 

“You good, Ichigo? Keep your head up!” Tatsuki added in, only slightly more sympathetic.

 

God, he had to  _ focus.  _ Grimmjow stood just ahead of him, every muscle in his body lithely shifting his weight back and forth. His motions were so fluid, so contrary and seemingly unaware to the sheer muscle mass that was rippling underneath the loose fabric of his tank top. 

 

_ Focus _

 

Ichigo got back up, throwing himself at Grimmjow. His opponent just gracefully dodged back and forth. He managed to keep Grimmjow on defense for quite some time, even getting in a few touches here and there, but they were nothing like Grimmjow’s hits that always seemed to vacuum all the air out of his lungs. 

 

_ Focus _

 

Time stretched on in their fight. How long had they been going? Who was winning? Ichigo’s head felt fuzzy and sharp at the same time. His vision would narrow in on tiny aspects: the shine on his opponent’s gloves, the scabbed over scrape on his elbow, the tightening corners of his mouth, the folds in the fabric of his clothing. These things Ichigo saw in crisp detail, while everything else blurred around him. He managed to stay in the fight on instinct alone, his body taking over based on years of practice while his mind blankly searched the body in front of it for a weakness. Every now and then, Grimmjow would land a hit, breaking the spell and clearing the haze in his mind, but sure enough it would return and Ichigo’s head would become foggy again. Pinpricks of clarity moved around the other’s form, never lingering on anything too long but always returning to his face.

 

Through his weirdly sharpened tunnel vision, which had been fixated on Grimmjow’s eyes, more specifically the smudged line of teal that ran along the outer corners, Ichigo saw his opponent’s eyes twitch away from Ichigo’s own. Whatever it was that had caught his attention, Ichigo didn’t know, but in that moment he sent a kick to the hard muscled torso that had just opened up in front of him. Grimmjow took the hit well, almost immediately refocusing on Ichigo. On Ichigo’s eyes. 

 

“Okay let’s call it there!” Yoruichi spoke up. “We’re nearly out of time so, I’ll see you all next week!”

 

Grimmjow’s arms dropped his sides. He nodded at Ichigo and Yoruichi, and promptly left the classroom with the other students after stopping only to gather his few things.

 

“I can’t believe you betrayed me. Tatsuki and I are always together,” Ichigo hissed at Yoruichi after the students surrounding them had dispersed. 

 

“I’ve got a date tomorrow night, I couldn’t risk getting covered in bruises,” Yoruichi replied simply, flipping her ponytail. “If I’m gonna be black and blue, I want my date to do it. I’m sure you understand,” she winked. 

 

“Yeah, okay, I’m not even gonna touch that. The point is that you could have paired him with literally anyone else.”

 

“Could I have? How do you think any of these skinny girls would have done against him? Not you, Amanda, you’re doing great sweetie!” Yoruichi called when one lingering student turned around.

 

“Still.”

 

“I stand by it. You have to work harder against him ‘cause he doesn’t hold back like Tatsuki does. You guys are too easy on each other.”

 

Tatsuki started to open her mouth in protest but Yoruichi cut her off again.

 

“You’re getting a better work out, and you’ll thank me later. Now get out of here. The next class is soon and the instructor always bites my head off if I don’t clean up.”

 

Ichigo headed towards the locker room in a huff. Tatsuki gave only a parting wave as she went her own way. That was fine, he was in desperate need of a shower. He was actually pissed off. The nerve of this guy, to show up to HIS regular class and just- He turned the corner into the room and was greeted by the sight of a glistening, wet, muscular back. On it, a number six was tattooed at an angle just above the man’s right ass cheek. Stopping dead in his tracks, Ichigo considered just leaving the room, but Grimmjow turned around, a towel slung dangerously low on his hips. 

 

He locked eyes with Grimmjow for just a moment, the other man’s gaze narrowing. 

 

“First time in a men’s locker room, Kurosaki?”

 

He didn’t even respond, instead turning to his own locker and hastily pulling out a towel and a tiny bottle of shampoo. 

 

“Good fight again today.”

 

“Yeah, uh, you too,” Ichigo said, a little strangled. 

 

“I think you’d be able to really get me if you were just more aggressive.”

 

“Uh huh.” Ichigo’s eyes remained locked onto his duffle bag. Aggressive? He’d show him aggressive.

 

“We’ll work on it though. Next week.” 

 

“Sure, see you in class Friday.” Forcing himself not to look and the fucking crazy chiseled body in front of him, Ichigo made his way to the showers. It would be much easier to stay pissed off if Grimmjow wasn’t so... fuck. Hot. Was he pissed off at Grimmjow for being in the class? Or at himself for not being able to focus on their fight like a normal person?

 

Next week? So this was going to be a regular thing. A shower was definitely in order. A cold one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said midterms next but, consider this.. this^
> 
> -writing fights is hard  
> -Ichigo is a dumb ass who cannot hold more than one thought in his head at once  
> -Thank you for coming to my ted talk


	5. Chapter 5

“I think you might just be an idiot, honestly.” 

 

Rukia sat across from Ichigo, taking up her favorite spot at the end of the counter at Seireitei. The rest of the shop was relatively empty. Seven PM on a Wednesday wasn’t a super popular time to get coffee, though there were a handful of students lounging on other couches. Rukia could have taken one to herself, but she always prefered to harass Ichigo while he was working. Instead of actually doing her own classwork, she was eating day old pastries with her laptop open next to her. On it, an open document that was entirely blank, save for her name and a header line that said ‘Title’. Her foot tapped on the stool rung in time with the blinking of the cursor, though she wouldn’t have noticed, having not even glanced at her assignment in 20 minutes. 

 

“As always, Rukia, your advice is profound. Truly I am so lucky to have a wise friend like you,” Ichigo said dryly as he restocked the napkin holder. 

 

“You’re the one who asked.” Rukia continued to pick apart a chocolate chip muffin, scattering crumbs all over the counter. 

 

“I’m not asking for anything, I’m just venting. Venting doesn’t need a solution, it just needs to get out of my system.”

 

“I’ve got a solution,” Rukia said, popping a chunk of muffin into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “Go get laid.”

 

Ichigo choked on nothing, the air caught in his throat as he caught a knee on the corner of an open cabinet door. He paused, rubbing his thigh as throbbing pain raced up his leg, and tried to think of a good retort. “I suppose you’re right,” he said after moment. “It certainly did wonders for you-“

 

Rukia tried to swipe at Ichigo but he ducked under the counter too quickly. 

 

“I’m a lady you know,” Rukia defended. “It’s rude to talk about my private business.”

 

“Yeah, tell that to Renji. Personally, I would love to know less about your sex life. And everyone else’s, really. What is it about me that makes people want to tell me about their kinks? By the way, you should pull his hair again, apparently that was his, uh, something...” Ichigo trailed off. 

 

Rukia blushed furiously. “This isn’t about me! This is about you!”

 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Yumichika gave me the same ‘advice’,” Ichigo said, disdainfully accenting the word with air quotes. 

 

“Good, then you know it has some merit to it.”

 

“Not so! Yumi’s always trying to get me to hook up with people. I figured it was a scheme to set me up with someone he knows. I don’t want to be part of the gay scene here. It seems like every dude who’s interested in dudes on this campus has collectively swapped spit with each other. It’s disgusting.”

 

“You sound like a prude, and I know that’s not true. Besides, that’s just college in general, it’s not a gay thing.”

 

“Okay,” Ichigo huffed, “it’s not disgusting, I just- I don’t know, maybe I’m just jealous.” His voice dropped down to a whisper. He wasn’t trying to tell the whole shop about his sex life, or lack thereof anyway. “I can’t get into that scene. You know, the random hookups and Grindr or whatever. I’m not shaming that, but I don’t know.” Ichigo stopped cleaning the espresso machine and fully leaned on the counter. He pressed the side of his face on the cold stone top and closed his eyes. 

 

“Hey.” Rukia prodded the back of Ichigo’s head. “Stop, no moping,” she said sympathetically. “I get it. Dating sucks.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Want to complain more?”

 

“Yeah.” He straightened up and started casting about in his mind for a topic and settled on an old favorite. “I hate Grimmjow.”

 

“You want to complain about him? I was hoping it would be your RA.”

 

“You asked if I wanted to complain, you don’t get to pick what it’s about.”

 

“I knooowww, we just already complained about him,” Rukia whined. “And I always love making fun of how up tight Nanao is. She makes it too easy.”

 

“He’s annoying! There’s so much to complain about!” Ichigo said, throwing up his hands in exasperation and completely ignoring the jab at his well-intentioned but strict RA. “I hate his dumb face and I hate that I have to see him twice a week. THREE times a week now, if he’s gonna keep ruining kickboxing-”

 

“Let me return to an earlier point, if I may,” Rukia interrupted.

 

“Please don’t say what I thi-”

 

“You need to get laid,” she slid in. Ichigo turned away and let out a half groan, half yell only just loud enough to attract the attention of one of the closer patrons in the coffeeshop.

 

“Gahhhh, Rukia, come ON,”  he said, frustrated. His ears were bright red. It was bad enough that they were even having this conversation, much less having it at his job. The only saving grace was that it was late enough that his other coworkers were gone. “That can’t be your only answer to things.”

 

“If there was a better answer, I’d let you know, buddy. You’re clearly really tense, and while any kind of sex would probably do the trick, I think this comes down to a good old-fashioned hate fuck.”

 

“Please stop, oh my god, Rukia.” Ichigo’s blush had spread from his ears to neck, threatening to take over his whole face. It was one thing to say that he needed to get fucked and a  _ completely different one  _ to say it should be with Grimmjow. He’d considered it, obviously, but not out loud other than the one, completely unserious time with Orihime. 

 

“Fine.” Rukia began sweeping her crumbs together into a neat pile on the counter. “By all means, continue to complain about this guy.”

 

“He sucks, Rukia, what else can I say? Clearly you don’t want to hear it.”

 

“But he’s really hot.” Rukia said flatly, examining her nails critically. 

 

“Ugh, yes, super hot.” Ichigo said, resigned and a bit sarcastic. 

 

“Do you like him?” 

 

“No! I hate him that’s the problem! Aren’t you listening at all?”

 

“Yeah, I am, that’s why I’m asking. You sound a lot like Yumichika before he and Ikkaku started dating.”

 

“But it was obvious that they just wanted to fuck, everyone knew it!”

 

Rukia had a self satisfied smirk on her face as she held her hands out in a loose shrug. “You have proven my point for me, thank you.”

 

Ichigo froze up. Whatever. She obviously has this in her mind and wasn’t going to listen to facts. The facts being that he was a rude, obnoxious, selfish prick despite his hotness. He blinked slowly, trying to reset, and turned away to continue with his near-closing routine. 

 

“Don’t walk away! You know I’m right!” Rukia half yelled after him. 

 

“You better leave and write your essay, Rukia, or I’m gonna start charging you for muffins.” Ichigo called from the back room. 

 

“Fine, but only cause it’s due tomorrow.” She slid off her stool and cleaned up her area, tucking her computer in her backpack with care. “See you tomorrow for lunch then?”

 

He couldn’t stay mad. “Yeah, okay. Text me.”

 

Rukia left with a wave of her hand and disappeared out the door, the tinkling of the bell sounding more joyful than he felt. 

 

While he disagreed with what Rukia was saying, some points were made. She always had a way of digging right under his skin and finding the one thing that would irritate the crap out of him. Mostly cause it was true and he didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

 

Ichigo’s stomach, already churning with the realization that he actually really  _ would  _ like to fuck Grimmjow, clenched when the bell above the shop’s entrance rang again. In the door stood the slender and pale frame of Ulquiorra, the sight hauntingly familiar. It was identical to that night not too long ago, one that Ichigo spent nearly every waking moment trying to forget, save for Orihime leading him into the shop. Her copper hair reflected the low lighting of the shop and her face was flushed from the October air. Her laughter, contagious as ever, sailed through the shop and spread to Ulquiorra. He was rather attractive when he smiled, Ichigo thought to himself. 

 

Orihime’s eyes locked on to Ichigo, who stood observing them behind the pastry display. She made a beeline across the shop, Ulquiorra towed along behind her by an iron grip on his wrist.

 

“Ichiii!” her sing-song voice rang out, reverberating through the air.

 

“Orihime, oh my god, please be quieter,” Ichigo hissed, hunching down behind the counter as if his boss were about to show up and admonish him for slacking off. “This is a place of business you know.”

 

“Sorry,” she fake whispered, still loud enough to turn heads. She settled into the spot that Rukia had abandoned, and Ulquiorra perched awkwardly on the stool next to her. “How are things going today? You remember Ulqui, right?”

 

“Yes, of course, we went to his art show together and we see each other twice a week in class.” Ichigo smiled in Ulquiorra’s direction, and received a small, curt nod in return.

 

“Right! How could I forget! Anyway, I was hoping Rukia would be here, I wanted to talk about class with you guys. I have this idea for something to make but Ulqui disagrees and I want you to back me up unconditionally.”

 

The pleading look on Ulquiorra’s face told Ichigo everything. He could only imagine what kind of horrible concoction Orihime had come up with. 

 

“You just missed her, she was giving me unsolicited, and frankly terrible advice. I chased her out, more or less.”

 

“Advice about what?”

 

Ichigo paused and darted a look at Ulquiorra, then back at Orihime’s wide, innocent eyes. Ulquiorra was staring absently at the menu above Ichigo’s head, so convincingly disinterested that Ichigo could almost believe he wasn’t listening. Still, Ichigo hadn’t talked seriously about Grimmjow with Orihime, at least not beyond his normal griping, and he certainly wasn’t about to start given the present company. 

 

“Erm, well, it’s not important. I think I’ve just about worked out what to do.” A lie. If anything her “advice” made things more confusing, but Orihime didn’t have to know that.

 

She nodded solemnly. “I’m so glad to hear that, Ichigo, you always seem so distracted, so I hope this is helping you work it out!”

 

Ichigo didn’t know whether to be offended or not, so instead he changed the subject, not wanting to do anything that would possibly keep them on a course that could lead to talking about he-who-must-not-be-mentioned. “Coffee for you then?” Ichigo asked, and without further instructions began to make Orihime’s favorite, decadent, creamy caramel monstrocity. He made it for her once as a joke, and ever since then it was the only thing she ordered. 

 

“Just black is fine with me,” Ulquiorra spoke softly, looking at Ichigo with startling intensity, as if he knew Ichigo was deflecting. 

 

The bell chimed once more as Ichigo busied himself with the drinks, but he didn’t hear it over the squeal that Orihime emitted. It made him flinch and nearly drop the drinks. When he turned around, she was being hugged by a tall, green-haired girl with a chest that competed with Orihime’s. 

 

The two girls swayed in each other’s arms, squeezing one another to death as far as Ichigo could tell, for several long moments. Beside them, Ulquiorra rubbed his temple and sent Ichigo a look that somehow said “Thank you for the coffee”, and “You see what I have to put up with?” They shared a moment, waiting for the girls to finish, Ulquiorra sipping delicately on his coffee. 

 

“Kurosaki, have you met Nel?” he spoke up, pointedly saying Nel’s name. 

 

Orihime released Nel suddenly. “Oh my god, Nel! This is Ichigo! He is so wonderful, you guys would be amazing friends!” 

 

Nel had a huge smile on her face. It was dopey and endearing. She was gorgeous, honestly, and somehow a little familiar. 

 

“Ichigo! It’s so wonderful to meet you! I hear about you all the time. Not just from Orihime but-” she was cut off by an elbow to the gut from Ulquiorra, who looked as passive as if he had never moved. This was apparently enough of a distraction, though from what, Ichigo was dying to know. Her eyes locked on to the mug of mostly whipped cream in front of Orihime. “What. Is. That.” Her eyes grew bigger with each syllable. 

 

“Nel, it’s amazing you have to get one,” Orihime bubbled. “Ichi.. will you pleeease make one for Nel?” Her pleading expression was mirrored by Nel beside her, and Ulquiorra, bless him, rolled his eyes. 

 

“Sure.” Ichigo said easily, turning away from the trio. Nel and Orihime caught up with each other in hushed tones, excitedly talking about the minutiae of their respective days. It was oddly heartwarming to watch. Ichigo and Orihime had been friends for ages, along with Tatsuki, and while Tatsuki was a wonderful friend, her boyish attitude never matched Orihime’s endless supply of bubbling energy. Seeing her with someone who matched her level, if not exceeded it, honestly, was simultaneously amazing and exhausting. 

 

The conversation did not pause when Ichigo set the sugary beverage down in front of Nel. She continued to talk animatedly, until a poke from Ulquiorra alerted her to the mug. 

 

“Ichigo thank you so so much! This is exactly what I needed! I triiiiied to get Grimmy out here with me but he’s just moping in the studio. I told him, this is what I said, I said, Grimm, you need to get a coffee with me, and he said why and I said, cause I’m meeting with Ulqui and Hime. And the he goes, okay where, and  _ I  _ said, Seireitei obviously! And you know what he said? Fuck that, he goes. I was shocked considering how much he talked about this place last we-“

 

Another elbow silenced her again as the gears finally clicked in Ichigo’s head and he realized where he knew this girl from. She was the same girl that had pounced on Grimmjow at the art show. His girlfriend, maybe? 

 

“Well anyway, he didn’t come,” Nel finished, a little awkwardly. At least, Ichigo felt awkward about it. Nel just sipped at her massive mug with obvious glee. 

 

“Why don’t I send you back with something then?” Ichigo said before he could stop himself. 

 

“That would be so so soooo nice of you!” Nel exclaimed. 

 

Ulquiorra stared. He didn’t say a word, but his massive green eyes, already unnerving to look at, were like saucers full of silent surprise. He knew, as did Orihime, just how belligerent he and Grimmjow were in class. They probably left class every day only for Grimmjow complain Ulquiorra’s ear off, like Ichigo did to Rukia. Poor Ulquiorra was probably cutting Nel off just to avoid having to hear Ichigo bitch about Grimmjow, as if even the mention of his lab partner would set him off. The worst part was, he wasn’t wrong. He must be sick of their constant fighting. They all must be. 

 

Guilt washed over Ichigo, cold and clammy. Their animosity was affecting the people around them, their friends. Friends who seemed to want to be friends with each other, if Nel and Orihime were any indication. He and Grimmjow’s petty bickering was more than unfair to them. As he set about making a to-go beverage, he also threw several pastries into a paper bag, adding a massive cinnamon bun right on top. Maybe Grimmjow would see it and know it was a peace offering of sorts. 

 

Orihime beamed, lost in conversation with Nel and Ulquiorra. As opposite as she was to her new boyfriend, they suited each other. He owed it to them to try and iron things out with Grimmjow, even if it wasn’t reciprocated.  

 

The rest of the evening passed amicably, and when Ichigo finally had to kick everyone out for the night, Nel gave him the most crushing hug he’d ever received. 

 

“It was so good to meet you, I’m sure that you-know-who will really appreciate this. Let’s hang out again soon!” Nel squeezed him tighter as she spoke, her chest crushing him, much to Ichigo’s discomfort. 

 

He said his goodnights, Nel back to the studio, Orihime and Ulquiorra trying and failing to slink off to the dorms stealthily. A bloom of warmth took over his chest. He could make this work. He would.

 

***

 

It was one of Grimmjow’s favorite places to be. The familiar blue fabric of the couch was faded and worn, but in all the right places. It was the sort of couch that pulled you in and made it difficult to get back up. The cushions were overstuffed and there was probably a break in one of the supports, but the couch was a staple of the studio.  It had been there longer than anyone could remember and it was sure to outlast them all as well, but Grimmjow felt that he had some sort of personal claim over it. At present, he was stretched indecently across it, long legs dangling over one arm and his head pressed into the other corner. Someone had donated or forgotten a pillow and blanket long ago, and now they lived in the studio with the couch, offering comfort to whichever sleep deprived art student stumbled in. Grimmjow was well on his way to sleep himself, the pillow over his face and the blanket covering only part of his body. He had been in the studio for hours and hadn’t managed to make any progress on his work since Nel had left. 

 

_ Left to go to Kurosaki’s shop,  _ Grimmjow grumbled to himself. He could have gone, he thought, but he couldn’t really bring himself to do so. As much as he liked to spar with Kurosaki, verbal or otherwise, he would have felt bad ruining Ulquiorra’s time with his new girlfriend. Was it official yet? He felt guilty anyway. Maybe guilt wasn’t the word. Maybe just, jealous? No. Definitely not that. But still. Something sick twisted up in him at the thought of their relationship.

 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for his friend. If anything, he was extremely happy for him. But still, seeing Orihime in his lap, how she hung around the studio with Ulquiorra and Nel, the way it used to be just three of them, that did make him feel jealous. No, not jealous. Although she had slotted herself into their friend group with surprising ease. 

 

It was more about destabilizing the friend group, he told himself. Three was such a solid number. So solid, really, that it made sense for them to not hang out with him. And then, if they did want a fourth friend, they could have Kurosaki. Isn’t that what they were doing now? And then, Nel could date Kurosaki and then the four of them could be a little, fucking, double date all the time and then-

 

Grimmjow forced himself off that train of thought. What, was he jealous of Nel? He shook that away. If he had wanted to date Nel he would have freshman year, but that would have been like dating his little sister. He was fiercely protective of her, everyone knew it. So maybe he just wanted to protect her from Kurosaki. That must be it. Despite their disagreements, Kurosaki was an okay guy, but he just wasn’t right for Nel. 

 

That was it. Grimmjow rolled on his back, muscles relaxing, satisfied with his reasoning. What had felt like a fist tightening on his heart slowly released itself. He just didn’t want to break up the friend group. A rational concern. One of them dating meant that they didn’t need the other two as much, and Ulquiorra dating his little princess meant that he and Nel were not as important. And, for what it was worth, Nel and Orihime got on like a bottle of vodka and a lit match. They were constantly matching each other’s energy; it was eerie how similar they could be. Which left Grimmjow out. 

 

Of course. It had nothing to do with Kurosaki. He just felt left out cause he didn’t click with Orihime as much. And Kurosaki did. Well. He was alone before and he could do it again. 

 

He lay on the couch in silence, forcing his brain to listen to the dripping faucet in the background instead of his own thoughts. He counted them in threes, each set relaxing him more and more. It almost worked, the rhythmic pinging of droplets against metal sink luring him deeper into the embrace of the couch. He could have convinced himself into taking just a short nap when the studio door flung open, smashing into the wall behind it. 

 

Nel sang her way into the studio, some pop song playing too loudly through her headphones, and Grimmjow heard, rather than saw, her rustling around at her desk. 

 

“Grimmy, I know you’re not sleeping, wake up cause I got you something.” Nel was rustling a paper bag somewhere in the room and singing to herself. “You missed a very good time at the coffee shop.”

 

Grimm rolled over, facing toward the back of the couch. He didn’t need to hear about what a good time he missed. As if he needed a reminder that they had more fun not around him. He kept his eyes closed, determined to ignore her. Nel wasn’t having it. He could hear her shuffle over, and felt her drop a heavy paper bag onto his head.

 

“The FUCK is this?” Grimmjow yelled, scrambling. His arms and legs were caught in the blanket like a tangled marionette struggling to get up. 

 

“It’s a gift,” Nel said simply. She wandered back to her table while Grimmjow wrestled with the cocoon he had created for himself. 

 

“From who?” he asked, finally free. He peeked into the bag and saw a perfect, round cinnamon bun. He shouldn’t have even asked. 

 

“It was Ichigo. He made you a coffee too, here,” she sang out, holding the paper cup at arms length in his direction.

 

Begrudgingly, Grimmjow got up and took the cup. He sniffed it cautiously, and if taking a tentative sip with a raised eyebrow was suspicious or weird in anyway, Nel did not mention it. 

 

“It was so so nice to meet him,” Nel said, scrolling through playlists. “I feel like I’ve had to listen to you talk about him for ages.” There was no malicious humor or teasing in her voice, just plain fact. “He is so cute, Grimm, you never mentioned that part.”

 

“And why would I?” Grimmjow spat, afraid of getting an actual answer.

 

“No reason, it’s just a very noticeable thing about him,” Nel replied simply. “I can’t believe you haven’t made any progress since I left. You better be glad that Ichigo made that coffee for you, cause you aren’t leaving for a while.” She finally decided on a song, something grungy with a female vocalist.

 

He supposed she was right. He was grateful for the coffee. And the cinnamon bun, but that went without saying. Somehow, the fact that he didn’t have to say it made him all the more grateful, but Nel didn’t have to know that.

 

He got up and strode across the room to his large drafting desk. The pair worked in amiable silence, as comfortable as ever. This is how it was supposed to be, Grimmjow thought. As time ticked past, he forgot his earlier worries. It was just another night in the studio, same as any other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got sick of editing this and felt guilty about not posting in ages so now it is here for you. Thanks for sticking with it!


	6. Chapter 6

Getting along with Grimmjow was not working. He never mentioned the cinnamon bun, though that was to be expected. If anything had changed, Ichigo could only feel that their kickboxing fights were getting fiercer and faster and that their verbal feuds had gotten more cutting than ever, though they did happen less often.

 

Midterms were just around the corner, and with it, the first meal that the class would have to practice ahead of time. So far, the cooking in class had been fairly low pressure. Kisuke would let them all practice it in class, and ultimately, it was about eating. This, of course, was ideal; everyone had signed up for the course with the hopes of hanging out and getting free food, and for the most part, they’d gotten it. The bubble had been burst one Friday, about a week before Halloween, when class began with an announcement from their professor.

 

“So uh, midterm season guys,” Kisuke began. “What’s up with that?”

 

“I don’t know, you tell us since you’re the professor,” Rukia yelled across the room.

 

“Fair enough.” The goofy instructor ran a hand through his messy hair and leaned back against the counter at the front of the room. “Well, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I think we’ve had a good thing going here, trying out new recipes and techniques, but the thing is, I do have to grade you on something.”

 

“Boooooooo....” Renji said through cupped hands, much to the amusement of the class.

 

“Yes, boo indeed,” Kisuke continued, clearly in agreement. “I would very much prefer to keep eating your ‘extra crispy’ cinnamon rolls.”

 

“Sick burn,” Rukia whispered, loud enough for Ichigo, and more importantly, Renji, to hear.

 

“You’re my lab partner, they’re equally your rolls too!” Renji said, getting louder.

 

“I was in the bathroom when you burned them, you can’t put this on me!” Rukia replied, volume rising even more.

 

“Unfortunately, however, my department head is insisting I give a midterm,” Kisuke said, talking over the arguing couple. “So here’s the plan. I’m going to ask you to create a meal, with your lab partner of course, that is what the two of you determine to be a “first date” meal.”

 

“Care to elaborate?” came the question from a student on the other side of the room.

 

“Certainly. This meal can be a couple of different things. It can be something that you would want to take your date to eat at a restaurant, or perhaps it could be a situation in which you have dated this person before, and now you are cooking for them for the first time. My only requirement is that you have two portions of everything, one for you, and one for your date. If you make a dessert or appetizer, I’ll give you extra credit.”

 

A groan went around the room, and Grimmjow, sitting next to Ichigo, was not immune to it.

 

“The midterm is one week from today. Just, make a meal, guys. Three courses, it’s not hard. There will be a small written portion on it... don’t groan, it’s going to be shit like naming kitchen utensils. Anyway, next class will be a review of that stuff. We’re going to spend today brainstorming meal ideas, and you can run them past me, because I didn’t come up with a real lesson plan. I highly recommend doing a practice round of this meal with your partner over the weekend. Bring in your receipts for this class, and I’ll have them reimbursed. I’ll know if you just bought your own groceries, so don’t even try it.” Another groan from the class. “Okay! Discuss!”

 

Ichigo started to get out his notebook. In front of him, Renji asked aloud, “Hey, Ruki, what was our first date?”

 

“We didn’t have one, idiot.”

 

“Really?”

 

Rukia sighed loudly. “No, you absolute fool. We’ve known each other since elementary school, we just started hanging out more and everyone kept asking if we were dating.”

 

“I thought you started by fucking,” Ichigo quipped behind them, before he could stop himself.

 

The look he received from Rukia silenced him immediately, but it did not stop Grimmjow from erupting with laughter, completely startling everyone in the room, especially since no one outside their group could’ve heard what prompted it.

 

“You guys really are idiots,” Grimmjow choked out in between laughs.

 

Ichigo looked a bit more sheepish. “You know I’m kidding, right Rukia? I love that you guys are dating. It makes it easier to hang out with you both cause you’re already together. Plus, now I don’t have to listen to Renji pining for you.”

 

“Great, well, I’m glad that it’s convenient for you,” she spat back.

 

“It doesn’t have to be a first date meal though,” Renji cut in, blushing furiously but still trying to take some of the pressure off Ichigo. “Remember when your brother came over and I cooked so he would think I was good enough for you? Surely that counts.”

 

Rukia’s expression softened.

 

“Oh, yeah, that was really nice.”

 

“You want to do that, then?”

 

Ichigo stopped focusing on their sappy conversation, and turned to his own partner. Grimmjow was fiddling with a pencil, doodling half-heartedly in the margins of his otherwise blank notebook.

 

“So, I don’t have any good ideas off the top of my head. What are your thoughts?” Ichigo said, jumping in and trying for an amiable tone.

 

“What, you don’t go on dates, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow said dismissively, not looking up.

 

“I guess you don’t either, since you aren’t offering an idea.” Ichigo shot back, unable to keep himself from rising to Grimmjow’s taunt.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Ichigo groaned, pinching his nose. “Fine. Fine, this is fine. Can we just like, google this? Surely someone out there has written a buzzfeed article or something.”

 

“10 Meals Guaranteed to Get Your Dick Wet,” Renji turned around to butt in, earning a smack from Rukia.

 

Grimmjow laughed at that too. He turned to face Ichigo and propped his head up on his palms. “If you’re trying to seduce me, I can just tell you what it is I like. I’d definitely put out for your sister’s cinnamon bun recipe.”

 

“I’m literally just trying to fill the assignment,” Ichigo said under his breath hotly. It was nice to finally have him acknowledge the little peace offering though. Ichigo leaned down to get his computer out of his bag. If his partner wouldn’t help him, he could search the internet on his own.

 

“C’mon, Kurosaki, surely you can think of something to put me in the mood.”

 

It was like Grimmjow had flipped a switch. When Ichigo looked back up, his lab partner may as well have been a different person. It was him, of course, but like an alternate version of him. He was leaning back against the counter, elbows propped behind him while the rest of his muscled body slouched artfully on the stool. His hair had fallen into his face, and he looked at Ichigo through the loose strands with half lidded eyes. Blue, burning through more blue, the brightness of which competed only with a smile on his face unlike any Ichigo had ever seen. It was a challenge, like all of his smiles, but this time it wasn’t the feral invitation to a fight, more like...

 

A sharp laugh from Orihime nearby popped Ichigo out of whatever bubble he was in. His head snapped towards the sound that had broken the spell. She was laughing, her shoulders shaking slightly and her hand over her mouth. Ulquiorra must have just told her a joke, but his face was smooth as ever.

 

He turned back to Grimmjow who was still leaning against the counter, but whatever it was that had settled over him was completely gone. The magical aura that briefly entranced him had disappeared, and it seemed only Ichigo had noticed it’s coming and going.

 

“Kurosaki. Did you hear me?” Grimmjow’s expression was cold again.

 

“Sorry, no, what?” Ichigo tried to recover. He swallowed hard in a poor attempt to blink away the vision of, _fuck what should he even call it? Sexy Grimmjow?_ Clearly his hormone riddled brain was just playing tricks on him.

 

“God, you’re so fucking spacey sometimes. Makes you easy to take down.” Grimmjow’s fighting smile was back again, but this time, Ichigo was out of patience.

 

“Can you, can we just focus on this class right now?” Ichigo stuttered. He still felt off after seeing Grimmjow like... that. Whatever it was supposed to have been. A trick of the light, definitely.

 

“ _Can we, can we, can we_ ,” Grimmjow mimicked and rolled his eyes. “Spit it out, fuck.”

 

“I’m serious, Grimmjow, let’s please just do this assignment.”

 

“ _I’m serious,_ God, please, do you hear yourself?” Grimmjow laughed. “It’s like you suddenly just lost your balls.”

 

Ichigo’s heart had been squeezing tighter and tighter, something about seeing Grimmjow in that light sent probing fingers of panic into his chest. All at once, it snapped within him.

 

“You know what, fuck this, Grimmjow. I don’t need this class. I don’t care if I fail it and it tanks my GPA. I cannot stand being around you. Every time I think you’re just going to act like a normal person, you dick around and make it completely impossible to work with you.” Each word lessened the weight in Ichigo’s chest.

 

“You think it’s a fucking walk in the park to work with you, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow stood up to his full, towering height. Ichigo stood to try and match it but fell short.

 

“Fuck you, I don’t give a shit, I do everything in this class,” was all that Ichigo could retort. His blood was boiling and he didn’t even fully know why. The room felt like it was narrowing in on just the two of them.

 

“Yeah, and that’s why the food is always shit-“

 

“And on top of that you harass me outside of class. You switched classes just to fuck with me every Tuesday. For what? You don’t have to be there! No one forced you to switch to Tuesday! You come to my work and drunkenly throw yourself on top of me-“ Ichigo’s voice was rising, and he couldn’t stop it.

 

“That’s not my fault! You were sleeping at work! If anything I should get you fired for slacking-“

 

“And whenever I run into you around campus you act like I killed your cat or something! What’s your damage, Grimmjow? You disappear for years, and you couldn’t grow up in that time? You know what, I don’t care. I’ll drop the class if that’s what you want.”

  
“You can’t drop this late in the semester-”

 

“Then I’ll stop showing up. You can figure it out on your own if you’re gonna cook something.”

 

Ichigo realized the two of them were now standing chest to chest. Ichigo’s nose was jammed up towards Grimmjow’s face, a poor attempt to get at his eye level.

 

He stepped back, and realized shamefully that the entire class was staring at them. Orihime’s round eyes blinked slowly in surprise at the pair’s outburst. Nearly everyone around them had a similar expression in their faces.

 

He’d come too far though; they’d already made a scene. He might as well finish strong. With a sharp exhale, he grabbed his bag off the floor and snatched his belongings of the counter. Without even bothering to shove them back into his bag, Ichigo turned on his heel and walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


### ***

 

“¿Mamá, cómo estás?”

 

“No, no, estoy bien, todo está bien, nadie se murió. Mamá! Escúchame!”

 

“Pues, cada vez que te llamo, dices que alguien murió. Cómo te sientes? Lo sé. Yeah, yo lo sé.”

 

Mamá, yo necesito tu ayuda. Yeah I know.  Mom, wait. Yo necesito una receta. Yeah. Sí, es mi clase. Sí es con él.

 

Okay, ahora dime. Necesitas salír la casa más. Okay, well, toda tu iglesia sabe que el carnicero es un gran coqueteo. Al menos puedes tener carne gratis.”

 

“Gracías, mamá. No, él me cae bien. Es bastante divertido a pelearse con él. Yo no sé. I know he doesn’t like it. Solo quiero disculparme. No quiero hablar de él. Enviame un foto. Okay, dime más del tío de deli.”

  


Sado was sitting in front of the student center minding his own business. One hand was digging around in a bag of goldfish crackers, the other held a book in front of his nose. If anyone were to ask him later, he’d say that he had been fully immersed in the words of Pablo Neruda all afternoon. The truth of the matter was that he was a habitual eavesdropper, and while he was trying to get better at not digging into the lives of those around him, he couldn’t stop himself from listening in on the loud, one sided phone conversation that was happening on the bench next to him.

 

Sado knew very well who Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was. The Wednesday night “single boys” dinners he had with Ichigo, and sometimes Toshiro, were dominated with conversation about him. For Sado to end up on a bench right next to him while he talked loudly about Ichigo, well that was just too delicious to tune out. The fact that it was all in Spanish? To his mother? Truly this type of situation was made _specifically_ so that Sado could overhear it.

 

Not that he was going to say anything. At the end of the day, it wasn’t his business to share. He’d just file this conversation away with other things he shouldn’t know, like how Toshiro was going to ask Karin out next week and wouldn’t be around for Wednesday dinner, or how Yumichika had a list of people he wanted to set up with Ichigo. He was just a humble, silent secret keeper, and he liked it that way.

 

### ***

  
  


_Unknown Number: It’s Grimmjow. I got the recipes. Where are we cooking tonight?_

 

_Unknown Number: I got your number from Ulquiorra who got it from the princess._

 

Ichigo blinked awake. He had picked up his phone to see what time it was but got distracted by the message notification.

 

Well this was unexpected. Grimmjow reaching out to him? Putting in the work? At- what was it- fuck, 11:30 am? Not that 11:30 is early, but it was a Saturday after all.

 

Where were they cooking? Now that was definitely something Ichigo had not considered. He supposed they could do it in the shared kitchen of his dorm, but that was always horrible. Freshmen constantly wandering in to cook, actually more like burn, popcorn, plus Ichigo didn’t really have any pots and pans. He could always ask to borrow Orihime’s stuff, but she was probably doing the same thing.

 

Ichigo saved Grimmjow’s number, then shot off a quick text to Renji:

 

_Ichigo: yo when are you and Rukia cooking for class?_

 

He didn’t expect an answer right away. It was “morning” after all, so he was surprised when his pillow vibrated under his head.

 

_Renji: tomorrow_

_Renji: why???_

 

_Ichigo: I need somewhere to cook with Grimmjow._

 

_Renji: lol really? Figured you were just gonna drop after yesterday._

 

_Ichigo: Apparently he got a recipe, idk_

_Ichigo: Either way I don’t have shit to cook with_

 

_Renji: Just use Yuzu’s tho_

 

_Ichigo: She’ll get nosy though_

_Ichigo: I love her but then she’ll want to sit with us the whole time and tell us how we’re doing it wrong._

_Ichigo: Plus what kind of brother would I be if I exposed her to Grimmjow?_

 

_Renji: you got me there_

 

_Ichigo: so anyway can I use your kitchen?_

 

_Renji: Yeah just let me check with Ikkaku, it’s mostly his shit. It’s probably fine, can’t imagine it wouldn’t be. Just gotta wait til he and Yumi are done fucking_

 

_Ichigo: yikes!_

 

_Renji: every ducking day dude_

_Renji: FUCKING** god dammit_

_Renji: autocorrect can suck it_

 

_Ichigo: lmao lmk_

  


Satisfied that he’d have a proper, if not slightly grimy, kitchen to use, he texted Grimmjow back.

 

_Ichigo: 34 Cherry Lane. What groceries do we need to get?_

 

The response was immediate.

 

_Grimmjow: I’ve got a list but I don’t have a car._

 

_Ichigo: I have a car. We can go together._

 

_Grimmjow: Okay. Pick me up at 1 in front of that circle by the library?_

 

_Ichigo: Sure, see you_

  
  


Well. Okay. Ichigo guessed he could delete the draft of that email he was going to send to Kisuke. The one where he dropped the class for good.

 

It was 12:45 much sooner than Ichigo was ready for. He scrambled into the jeans he was wearing the day before and grabbed a light jacket, not wanting to make Grimmjow wait, which could, god forbid, put him in a bad mood from the start. Luckily, he was parked right outside his building, and pulled up to the library right at 12:59. Grimmjow stood waiting on the sidewalk, leaning up against a massive maple tree who’s leaves were a brilliant orange display of autumn colors. It was unseasonably warm and his jacket was tossed over his shoulder like some model.

 

“Hop in,” Ichigo called out of the rolled down windows. He let his eyes slide over the model’s body, greedily drinking it in before telling himself to lock it away or else have a _very_ long afternoon

 

Grimmjow said nothing, just stowed his phone in the pocket of his jacket and stalked over to the car, his face the usual unreadable mask of neutral displeasure.

 

“You want to go to a specific store?”

 

“Anything is fine. There’s the one just off Bedford Avenue that’s good.”

 

“Mkay, I know the one.”

 

They sat without speaking for a few minutes. Only the sound of other vehicles, the engine and the occasional clicking of the turn signal accompanied them on their drive.

 

“So you always just sit in complete silence or what, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow spoke up sharply.

 

Ichigo sighed. He wasn’t ready for a fight, especially so early. Oka, well early-ish. Besides they _just_ fought yesterday. Surely they could give it a rest.

 

“What do you want to listen to?” Ichigo said diplomatically.

 

“Anything, just can’t sit here listening to you suck in air any time a fuckin’ Prius cuts you off any more.”

 

Got it. That’s how it’s gonna be? Ichigo threw the volume up, only to find that the last CD had been playing the whole time. The car was suddenly filled with sound, and Ichigo and Grimmjow both jumped in their seats, practically out of their skin.

 

**_I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKE YOU, AND I WANT YOU, DO YOU WANT ME, DO YOU WANT ME TOO?_ **

 

**_I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKE YOU, AND I WANT YOU, DO YOU WANT ME, DO YOU WANT ME TOO?_ **

 

Ichigo reached out and slapped the volume knob, reflexively bringing the music down to a whisper.

 

“The _fuck_ is that about, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow growled through gritted teeth. “You trying to get us killed?”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“The hell do you listen to in here?”

 

“First of all,” Ichigo scoffed, “Yuzu borrowed my car yesterday to go to the movies. Second, CRJ slaps and I won’t hear any slander about her just cause it’s pop music.”

 

“I didn’t say that Carly Rae Jepsen was bad,” Grimmjow said, his tone of voice almost, sheepish?

 

“You seemed pretty judgemental.”

 

“It was just loud, okay? Caught me off guard ‘s all,” Grimmjow said with a defensive shrug.

 

“If it’s not your taste there’s other CDs in the glove compartment. This car’s pretty old, I don’t have an AUX cord.”

 

“It’s in good shape for being so old, though.” Grimmjow remarked. He took out the thick CD case booklet and began to flip through it. “You got a lot of stuff, huh?”

 

“Yeah, like half of it is inherited from my old man. All the 80s metal and classic rock is him.”

 

“Right on.” Grimmjow nodded approvingly, lingering on a page for a while. “Who’s the Mountain Goats fan? There’s a lot of them in here.”

 

“Ah, that’s me,” Ichigo said. “Doesn’t help that they’ve released an album roughly every other year since I’ve been born. Makes it easy to get a lot of it.”

 

“True. Favorite album?” Grimmjow’s voice revealed nothing.

 

“You’ll hate me.”

 

“Why is it a pretentious deep cut? Let me guess, Zopilote Machine?”

 

“No, worse. It’s a super obvious choice. The Sunset Tree.” Ichigo blushed a little. It was actually a really personal band, and he was surprised that Grimmjow knew them. Not that they were unpopular; he didn’t want to be _that_ music guy. “Do you like them?”

 

“Yeah, what’s not to like.”

 

“Do you have a favorite album then? Please tell me it’s Zopilote Machine”

 

“Nope. Transcendental Youth, if only for the opening track.”

 

Grimmjow’s words hung in the air as he continued to fill through the book, and Ichigo didn’t pry. The occasionally hum in approval or snort at a selection punctuated the drive, but otherwise he offered no further commentary even as they rolled into the supermarket parking lot. The well-loved car shuddered to a stop, and with the turn of a key, the two were plunged into silence again.

 

“Shall we?” Ichigo said, gesturing at the store.

 

Grimmjow opened the door with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t bother waiting for Ichigo, striding off towards the store with purpose.

 

“Okaaayyyyy,” Ichigo said aloud to himself, now alone in the car. He mentally steeled himself for the upcoming trip. It really was like two steps forward, one forceful shove backwards with Grimmjow. He got out of the car and gave a couple jogging steps to catch up to the vibrant head of blue hair that towered above the other shoppers.

 

Inside the shop, Grimmjow’s long and bulky frame slouched over the handle of a shopping cart. He waited impatiently by the other carts, tapping his foot in a way that made Ichigo’s skin crawl.

 

“Hope I didn’t inconvenience you too much,” he snapped.

 

“It’s not a big parking lot, Kurosaki, don’t know what you’re dragging ass for,” Grimmjow replied with a sharp-toothed grin and a wicked glint in his eye. “Let’s go.”

 

All the muscles in Ichigo’s body tensed up as he watched his lab partner turn away from him again. Why was it that everything he did was infuriating?

 

It didn’t take much to catch up with him this time. Grimmjow was perusing the aisle in an annoyingly casual way, his whole body still practically laying on the cart as he pushed it lazily past some canned beans.

 

“Do you like enchiladas?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Ichigo replied easily. Grimmjow pushed on forward, not looking at Ichigo at all and every now and then throwing something into the cart.

 

“The problem with this assignment is that we have to do it in one class, and basically any meat that’s worth eating needs to marinate overnight.”

 

“I don’t see why we can’t do that,” Ichigo said hesitantly.

 

“How are we gonna test it this afternoon if it takes 24 hours to cook?” Grimmjow said, the words more biting and cruel than he probably meant. At least that’s what Ichigo told himself.

 

“Well how about we get some meat marinating now for the test and then just do a practice round with less seasoned meat?” Ichigo tried to reason. He really wasn’t about to start a fight in aisle 7, but if he had to, so be it.

 

Grimmjow didn’t answer for a long time. Ichigo was about to speak up when all of the sudden Grimmjow turned around, face bright like a school boy. “Alright, we’re doing ropa vieja!”

  


***

 

The trip back in the car was, if possible, more quiet than the ride to the store. Grimmjow picked up where he left off in the CD booklet, god he had so many, but never bothered to make a selection. Instead, the Carly Rae Jepson CD continued to play, even eventually starting over. He finished by the time they turned on to Renji’s street, replacing it into the glove compartment with a surprisingly gentle click.

 

“It’s this yellow one almost on the end, right?” Grimmjow spoke up.

 

“Ah, yeah, how’d you know?”

 

“I thought the address was familiar. Definitely been to a party here before.”

 

“They host a lot, but I’m usually at them. I haven’t seen you at all until this year.”

 

“Weren’t paying attention then, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow said dismissively.

 

Did that mean that he’d been around the whole time and just, hadn’t said anything?

  


### ***

  
  


Grimmjow was only half surprised when Kurosaki pulled into the driveway of the last two story house on the dead end street. The front yard was overgrown, the front gate barely attached to the hinges. If he recalled correctly from past parties, the backyard shared a fence with campus. Vines crawled up the side of the attached garage, and two figures were sitting on lawn chairs on the flat roof of it. It was probably the last warm day of the year, and he could see where that roof would be incredibly popular in the summer.

 

“Heyyyy Ichigo!” the bald guy on the roof yelled as he and Kurosaki exited the car. Grimmjow only half recognized him, mostly cause it was rare to see a college student with a truly bald head and that sort of stuck with you.

 

“Hey, Ikakku!” Kurosaki waved back, dorkily enthusiastic.

 

“Got your lab partner with you, I see,” called the other person on the roof. Their face was obscured by large sunglasses and dark hair, but Grimmjow could swear he was being thoroughly inspected.

 

“Yeah, thanks for letting us borrow the place,” Kurosaki shouted back as he pulled the groceries out of the trunk and slammed it shut.

 

“Just scream if you start to burn the place down,” the dark haired person said with a dismissive wave of their hand as they settled back into the chair.

 

“Let’s go,” Kurosaki beckoned, grabbing two of the paper bags and leaving one for Grimmjow. He led him to the front door, green and sun bleached, and tried to open it.

 

“It’s locked!” he yelled back towards the roof.

 

“It’s not locked!” came a distant reply. “Put your back into it, weakling!”

 

“Are you fucking-“ Kurosaki grumbled, setting the bags down. He grasped the handle and shouldered the door purposefully. “Every. Fucking. Time-“ he grunted as he slammed his whole weight into the door. The door complied with his third word, dumping Kurosaki into the floor, arms and legs flailing, trying and failing to grab onto something.

 

Grimmjow roared with laughter as Kurosaki looked up at him scowling. The floor of the front hall of the house was covered with soccer cleats and shin guards and jackets that had fallen off their hooks. Behind the door, Abarai peaked out sheepishly.

 

“Sorry man, it was locked,” the redhead said with a grin. Even he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at his friend.

 

“What did I fuckin’ say?” Kurosaki griped, taking Abarai’s outstretched hand and pulling himself up. “You guys need to clean this shit hole.”

 

“None of this is mine! My stuff is on the back porch!” Abarai said indignantly.

 

“What the fuck is this then?” Kurosaki said, sending a large red cleat soaring past Grimmjow and out the door with a precise kick.

 

“Gah!” was the only reply that Abarai had, and he scrambled after his shoe, ignoring Grimmjow entirely.

 

“C’mon,” Kurosaki said, finally facing Grimmjow. Irritation was written across his face, but this time it wasn’t directed at Grimmjow. It made his stomach churn a bit to see it. It was weird to remember that Kurosaki was a whole human outside of their time together. A soccer player, a brother who lent his car to his sister, and an apparently permanently irritated person.

 

He followed the orange head as it floated into the dark hallway and disappeared around the corner. The house, much like the hallway, was littered with soccer equipment and other trash. Beer cans, mainly, but textbooks and pizza boxes and dirty plates, too. The kitchen, surprisingly, was not nearly as bad as Grimmjow expected. There were some dishes in the sink and the floor definitely could use a mop, but the counters themselves were relatively clear.

 

“And they wonder why I didn’t want to live with them,” Kurosaki said under his breath. “They live like fucking animals.”

 

“Worse,” Grimmjow found himself agreeing.

 

Kurosaki looked up, seemingly startled that his thoughts were heard out loud. “Sorry,” he said, shoving one hand into his pocket and the other forcefully through his hair. “I knew it would be rough, but not this bad.”

 

“It’s fine. Beats the dorms, anyway. My friends aren’t any better,” Grimmjow started to ramble, finding that he wanted to make Kurosaki feel better and that he felt guilty for accidentally making him feel bad.

 

“Erm, well, great, haha. College, right?” his partner said awkwardly, turning around and starting to remove their purchases from the grocery bags.

 

“Right.”

 

The reality of spending the whole afternoon with Kurosaki was starting to set in.

 

“Alright, let’s get this meat going. It’s gonna take the longest,” Grimmjow started, pulling the meat out of the bag in his hand.

 

“You should use Yumi’s insta pot,” came a deep, rumbling voice from the doorway.

 

Grimmjow did not recognize the tall, dark haired, dark skinned man who took up nearly the entire door frame. His body blocked the light that poured in through the living room windows.

 

“I think my mom would kill me for taking a short cut like that,” Grimmjow said, suddenly defensive. It was his mamá’s recipe, who was he to mess with it? And who was this guy to think he knew more about cooking than his mom?

 

“I understand. Abulita would smack my hands when I didn’t make tamales her way.” The giant pushed his hair out of his face and smiled. “I’m Sado, by the way.”

 

“Grimmjow,” he replied coolly.

 

“I’m serious about the insta pot though. Save yourself the 8 hours. Your mom doesn’t have to know.” With that, Sado disappeared back to where ever he had came from, leaving Grimmjow blinking in confusion.

 

He turned back around to face Kurosaki, who was rolling his eyes. “Classic Sado, dropping in with random wisdom as if it’s fact and leaving just as fast. I’ll do whatever you want to do, it’s your recipe.”

 

“It’s not mine,” Grimmjow whispered to himself. Reluctantly, he pulled the pressure cooker into a more prominent place on the counter top and threw the meat in. Might as well try it right? “Let’s get you chopping up some onions,” he said, turning to Kurosaki.

 

It was nice that they could just work together in silence, though nice felt like such an underwhelming word for what it was. Whatever else Grimmjow may have had against him, Kurosaki could just start to work and that was it, no need for idle conversation. He was good with a knife too. While Grimmjow spiced the meat and started the pressure cooker, his partner diligently began slicing up peppers and onions and cilantro with skill. “Years of trying to help Yuzu,” he had said, when Grimmjow had made a passing comment. It didn’t take long until they had the tomatillos cooked, everything pureed, and the salsa verde nearly done, simmering nicely on the stovetop. They had even decided to saute up some other veggies as a side dish, and make another cold salsa just to eat with chips.

 

Their quiet was shattered by thundering steps down the stairs. A moment later, the bald roommate from the roof threw himself into the kitchen.

 

“Yo, WHAT smells so fuckin GOOD in here?” he asked, punctuating his words with comically deep inhalations.

 

“Enchiladas.” Kurosaki said, turning down the heat on the sauce. Grimmjow didn’t even have to tell him to do it. For all his talk about not knowing how to cook, he must have subconsciously picked some stuff up from his sister. It was intimidating to think how good she must be if he thought he was bad.

 

The timer on pressure cooker began to beep excitedly. Had it really been an hour and a half already? Grimmjow tentatively opened the lid, afraid of what he might uncover. Curls of steam wafted out of the pot like beckoning tendrils in a cartoon. The meat had completely fallen apart, so tender that Grimmjow barely had to poke it with a fork. He tenderly picked a piece out, blowing on it to make sure it was cool. Unaware of the eyes watching him, he popped it in his mouth.

 

“God, I can never tell my mother.” Grimmjow unknowingly said out loud.

 

Sado laughed heartily, reappearing in the doorway. “Your secret is safe with us,” he said smiling.

 

“One of many secrets, I’m sure,” Kurosaki said lightly, ruffling his own hair.

 

“Uh, what?” Grimmjow said, unsure.

 

Sado blushed deeply. “It’s just a turn of phrase, I don’t have any of your secrets!” he said, too defensively.

 

“Yeah, just everyone else’s,” the bald guy said.

 

“Erm-“ Grimmjow began, but was cut off by Kurosaki.

 

“Well, what’s the next step?”

 

The bald guy, Ikkaku, Grimmjow had to remind himself, plucked a glass casserole dish out of some deep cabinet. After a thorough cleaning, he began to assemble and fill it with enchiladas. Kurosaki tried admirably to make his tidy, failing miserably.

 

Soon enough, the enchiladas were loaded into the oven to bake. All of the house members had shown up, Renji appearing silently behind Sado with wide, hungry eyes, and whatever his name, the prissy one, who did little more than tell Kurosaki how ugly his enchiladas were and throw himself all over Ikkaku.

 

The kitchen table was covered in crap, like the rest of the house, but this was entirely schoolwork. At least someone in this house was in college to study and not just party. Renji shuffled all the papers into a pile and shoved them onto a side counter, and, with some ceremony, pulled out a deck of cards.

 

“Poker, gentlemen?” he asked slyly.

 

“I don’t have any cash after Sado cleaned me out last night,” Ikkaku whined. That made sense, Grimmjow thought. He could see Sado having a completely impenetrable poker face. Maybe he and Ulquiorra should meet. That’s a face off he’d like to see.

 

“Fine by me,” Renji smirked. “We don’t have to use cash.”

 

“Renji, I swear to god, we are not going to play strip poker at 3:30PM and sober on top of it,” Kurosaki said with a groan.

 

“Doesn’t have to be sober,” he replied, reaching into the fridge.

 

“Still,” Kurosaki sighed, grabbing a chair and resignedly sitting down.

 

Everyone gravitated to the table, following suit and settling into the odd assortment of stools, desk chairs, and camping chairs around it.

 

“We don’t have to strip, you know,” Renji said awkwardly once they had all gathered around.

 

“Well, I’m glad we all just accepted it,” dark haired guy said. “You all really want to see me naked that badly.” _Yumichika_ , Grimmjow reminded himself.

 

“God, you’re all fuckin’ weird,” Grimmjow said in disbelief.

 

Yumichika laughed, “Fucking homos.” Which seemed like a normal offhand joke, since Yumichika was clearly gay himself, but when Ikkaku, who was probably involved with Yumichika, and _Kurosaki_ answered back with a simultaneous “Yeah?” Grimmjow’s head snapped up.

 

Everyone around the table laughed while Grimmjow looked around at them all wildly. This was normal. This was a normal joke. They were all used to this, they all knew that their friends, that Kurosaki was gay.

 

Cool. Nothing to process there.

 

The good, distracting news was that Sado had somehow produced an actual set of poker chips, mismatched though it was, so there was no threat of removing clothing. Which would have been weird, Grimmjow reminded himself, since he didn’t even know these guys.

 

They played a few hands until the the timer on the enchiladas started beeping. Grimmjow jumped at the chance to pull them out. He was losing spectacularly, which would have been incredibly frustrating if Kurosaki hadn’t been losing worse. They hadn’t been kidding, Sado was an absolute machine at poker. The only one who managed to hold his own was Yumichika, though Renji put up a decent fight.

 

Kurosaki got up and dished up plates for everyone, but he handed the first to Grimmjow.

 

“Go ahead, try it out,” he said.

 

Grimmjow scooped a forkful and reluctantly took a bite.

 

“How does it hold up?”

 

He thought about it for a while. It wasn’t as good as his mom’s, that was true. But it was still pretty good, he had to say.

 

“Not bad. You tell me.”

 

Kurosaki‘s face was amazing to watch. He fluctuated between apprehension, thoughtfulness, surprise, and pure, simple enjoyment as he chewed his first bite.

 

“God, if your mom’s is anything like this, you gotta invite me over for dinner.”

 

“I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

 

Kurosaki flushed brilliantly, his face outshining his hair for once. “I didn’t, uh-“ he cut himself off and busied himself with bring the other plates over to the table, leaving Grimmjow inwardly smirking.

 

The rest of the table seemed to enjoy the meal as well. After a few moments of silent chewing, the poker game forgotten, compliments came from each housemate, even Yumichika. The greatest compliment he received was from Sado, who nodded, pointed at the dish with his fork, and said, “Nice.”

 

“Damn, Rukia and I are in trouble if we’re up against this,” Renji said.

 

“It’s not a contest,” Kurosaki laughed, his mouth and eyebrow quirking up.

 

“You say that, Ichigo, but I don’t know if that’s true. We may very well be doing Masterchef as far as Urahara is concerned.”

 

“Dude is weird, don’t you think,” Grimmjow added, the first he’d really said in the group conversation.

 

“You’re tell me.” Across the table, Kurosaki rolled his eyes. “That guy has been in my life forever, he’s practically my uncle and he’s still a mystery.”

 

Renji hummed an aggreement. Grimmjow didn’t really listen to conversation at that point. He ate his fill and marveled that his the entire casserole dish of enchiladas was quickly scarfed down. It was nice to be with them, oddly enough. He didn’t really know any of these guys, but strangely he felt comfortable in their presence. One by one they disappeared, having eaten all they could. Apparently each had evening plans, leaving only he and Kurosaki behind.

 

“I think this is going to be really easy to do in class,” Kurosaki spoke up.

 

“I think so too.”

 

“Thanks for finding the recipe, it’s a really great one.”

 

Grimmjow laughed, a short but genuine chuckle. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to tell my mom you liked it. She said it was what she made for my dad when they first started dating.”

 

“So it really is a first date meal, huh? Tried and true.” Kurosaki’s mouth turned up in a smile.

 

“Yeah, apparently that was when he knew she was the one.”

 

“Does your mom still make it for him?” Kurosaki asked as he cleared the plates from the table.

 

“I’m sure she would, if he was still around,” Grimmjow said. He had no energy to be private about it. Kurosaki didn’t prod, but he continued anyway. “He passed away. About, ah, five years ago.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

 

Kurosaki knew. He didn’t gave to say it, but Grimmjow knew that he knew. The reply was so soft, so unobtrusive. He knew. He didn’t ask the obvious question. _Is this why you disappeared? Is that why you stopped seeing anyone at all, throwing yourself into your schoolwork and actual work and trying to make ends meet for your mom?_

 

“I, um, I sympathize. My mom did, too. I was nine.” Kurosaki was quiet.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Kurosaki opened the sliding glass door, which led out to a back porch in desperate need of a power wash. Grimmjow had been right, he was pleased to remember. The backyard did look out onto the campus, it’s autumn trees visible from the house. It was somehow still warm, so completely unseasonal, though the sun was beginning to set and it was certain to cool off soon. He sat on a picnic table outside, his feet up on the bench. From where Grimmjow sat inside the house, Kurosaki was silhouetted, his face was turned towards the yard and his hair, untamable and orange already, looked like a wildfire in the rapidly fading light. Grimmjow only noticed the light breeze when he saw the dust motes floating through the air, catching the light around Kurosaki’s head like beautiful ashes. In that moment, Grimmjow might have said he felt truly at ease for the first time that semester.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing is a drag so perhaps I will come back and do it later. 
> 
> I feel like this was like seven different ideas pushed into one not-so cohesive chapter and I honestly don't know if it worked lol put here's hoping instapot will sponsor me after this one. 
> 
> Also sorry for my Mountain Goats part, it's not for everyone and definitely self indulgent.
> 
> Thanks see you next time!
> 
> Edit:  
> Added a translation for the part where Grimmjow talks to his mom! Thanks to Kaydu for reminding me to do it! As you can tell it is very deep conversation, but this is how talking to my mom always is lol
> 
> Mom, How are you?
> 
> No, no, everything is okay, no one died. Mom! Listen to me!
> 
> Well, every time I call you say someone died. How are you feeling? I know, Yeah, I know it.
> 
> Mom, I need your help, Yeah, I know. Mom, wait. I need a recipe. Yeah, it's my class. Yes, it's with him.
> 
> Okay, tell me. You need to leave the house more. Okay well your whole church knows that the butcher is a huge flirt. At least you can get free meat.
> 
> Thanks mom. No, I like him. It's fun to fight with him. I don't know. I know he doesn't like it. I only want to apologize. I don't want to talk about him. Send me a photo. Okay, tell me about this deli guy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you read my other fic, this is where it happens! I've made some edits to it to reflect the changes in their relationship so if you already read the other one, consider taking another look! Cheers!

Ichigo sat on the slightly grimy bathroom floor of Renji’s house, and with every passing second he regretted agreeing to this more and more. Yumichika hovered over him, a spray can of hair dye in hand. Ichigo watched, disassociating slightly, as his signature orange tufts of hair were slowly and meticulously coated in black.

 

“Why did I agree to this?” Ichigo whined, taking a large gulp of the beer in his hand. The stranger in the mirror drank too.

 

“Because it’s a _masquerade_ party. The whole point is that no one knows who anyone else is. It won’t work if people see your hair ‘cause no one else looks like that. Besides, it’s Halloween, and it’s fun, so shut up and let me finish.”

 

“I don’t know anyone who will be there anyway,” Ichigo grumbled.

 

Yumichika gave the can a shake, dismissing anymore complaints, and continued combing over Ichigo’s head. He had a good point anyway, Ichigo thought. Yumichika always managed to find out about the best parties to go to: this one in particular was being thrown by some senior drama students, both to promote the upcoming production of Phantom of the Opera, and as a good excuse to secretly raid the costume shop.

 

When Renji, partly in costume, stopped in the bathroom doorway to see the progress, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

 

“Oi, who’s this random you got up here, Yumi?” Renji jested, a huge grin on his face. “Don’t let your boyfriend catch you in the bathroom with another man!” he half yelled down the hall.

 

“What about his boyfriend?” Ikkaku yelled back. Heavy footsteps ran up the stairs and seconds later a shiny bald head poked into the room. “Well, well, well, look at you in black. Looks good, Kurosaki.” Smiling wickedly, he taunted Ichigo with an almost violating up and down inspection.

 

Yumichika scowled in response. “My hair is naturally black,” he said, his tone seeming aloof if it weren’t for the clear jealousy on his face.

 

Ikkaku’s expression changed to a softened yet devious smile as he focused his attention on his neglected boyfriend and stepped into the cramped bathroom. “I know,” he said, his voice an octave lower. “I find it incredibly sexy.” His fingers began to weave into the shoulder length locks, only grab Yumichika by the back of the head and pull him in for an uncomfortably intimate kiss.

 

“OKAY!” Ichigo yelped, jumping up from the floor next to them, while Renji half yelled, half groaned at them to get a room.

 

Yumichika finally pulled away, though still held tightly by Ikkaku’s arms. He was blushing wildly and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Wow, gay,” he said, trying and failing to be composed and nonchalant. “You’re going to smudge my makeup.” His complaint was half-hearted though, made while examining his face critically in the mirror. The intricate design hadn’t budged. Whatever makeup setting stuff those theater kids used, they weren’t messing around.

 

Ikkaku, satisfied with his work, pulled away, swaggered out of the room, and had nearly made it down the stairs when Renji decided to start pushing some buttons.

 

“Weird how much you care about hair even though you have none.”

 

“It’s SHAVED!” Ikkaku yelled, starting to sprint back up.

 

Renji made a run for it, a maniacal grin spread wide across his face. A door down the hall slammed closed before Ikkaku could get there, who began pounding on it repeatedly, promising the beating of a lifetime.

 

“I think you’re all set here,” Yumichika said, returning his attention to Ichigo. “Your mask is on Renji’s bed with the rest of your costume, so go get dressed. I want to be there by 10, and we’re all doing shots before we leave.”

 

Obediently, Ichigo left his spot on the floor and headed to Renji’s room, where he had left his bag earlier.

 

“It’s stupid you don’t live here dude. I don’t know why you insist on living on campus,” the red head quipped, when Ichigo got to his room. Ikkaku had disappeared back down the stairs to answer a demanding knock on the door.

 

“Maybe if you guys didn’t live like you’d never heard of Lysol, I would. The only reason anything gets cleaned is because of Yumichika, and he doesn’t even live here.”

 

“He might as well honestly, he’s here with Ikkaku like basically every night. As far as I’m concerned, his cleaning is the price he pays for making us listen to their fucking.”

 

“Disgusting, no thank you,” Ichigo said, scrunching his face. “You’re not hiding your hair? It’s just as distinct as mine.”

 

“Nah, I figured it’s only for if you’re trying to lowkey hook up with someone no strings attached. Isn’t that your plan?” he said, smirking.

 

“Oh! nnn..nn No! I mean- uh... not really! I’m not planning anything!” Ichigo sputtered. He hadn’t even considered that.

 

Renji’s shit-eating grin got bigger. “If you say so. Hurry up and get dressed, you pervert.”

 

Renji left the room, hollering down the hall for Ikkaku to get him a beer, leaving Ichigo, who was now extremely self conscious, to examine the costume he’d been given.

 

Halloween had never been a huge thing for Ichigo, though once he was in college, it was pretty pervasive. This year, he carried on a tradition, now in its third year, of letting Yumichika pick what he’d be. The first year, when Yumichika was a freshman and Ichigo was sophomore, was the year of the skeleton. Despite Ichigo’s initial complaints, Yumichika has insisted it was a Halloween classic, and that it would be practically criminal to not dress up. He probably would have been more on board had the costume been more traditional and less of a “sexy” take on the concept of bones. The second year, Ichigo accepted the costume easily. The group was going as the Power Rangers, and Yumichika had already found everyone costumes.

 

This year, Yumichika was going back to basics. Tentatively, he picked up the headpiece and mask. A sexy cat. Ichigo rolled his eyes. At least the clothes themselves were relatively inoffensive and not a combo of a crop top and leggings, the way the skeleton had been. A pair of well fitting, slim black skinny jeans from Ichigo’s own closet, picked out earlier in the week, and a black turtleneck from Yumichika’s. Ichigo pulled it on over his head. It was fairly snug, since Yumichika was much slimmer, but he had to admit it looked pretty good, showing of his body without being in-your-face sexy. Ichigo probably wouldn’t have picked it out for himself, but hey, it looked good. The tail was easily secured to the belt loops of the slacks, and Ichigo placed the ears on his newly black-haired head. Mask in hand, he headed downstairs to join his friends, who had been steadily growing louder.

 

“There he is!” Ikkaku’s voice echoed through the house.

 

Everyone else was already dressed, and Ichigo assessed them as he came down the stairs, wanting to see how he measured up. Ikkaku was a classic looking vampire, while Yumichika was dressed as a very dramatic bat. He was all in black as well, with a cape for wings. The intricate makeup and mask combo that Ichigo had already seen actually made the whole look. He was pretty impressed with how unrecognizable the couple looked. Renji and Rukia also had a couple costume on, which, good for them for doing something openly couple-y, Ichigo thought. The pair were dressed as an immediately recognizable Archie and Veronica, fully ignoring the masquerade part of the party. Orihime stood by the kitchen counter, and had opted to go more masquerade than halloween. She was dressed as a flapper girl, and had her mask resting on top of her head.

 

“Took you long enough! Sado is driving us, so shots before we go!” Orihime shouted, a bottle of clear alcohol in her hand, raised above her head.

 

“She’s already in deep, and Madarame’s keeping pace,” Rukia whispered to Ichigo once he got over to them. “I didn’t realize I’d be the last one here. I’m so far behind all of you.”

 

“Yeah, we started early. Ikkaku basically had us going at 2.” Kurosaki did an inward examination. He was definitely feeling tipsy, maybe more tipsy that he did at the beginnings of most nights, but it was Halloween after all. He’d just drink some water and be fine.

 

“Let’s do this!” Ikkaku yelled.

 

Shot glasses made their way around the little circle they had formed in the kitchen.

 

“Three, two one!”

 

Fire seared down Ichigo’s throat. He’d never get used to doing shots, as long as he lived. At least Rukia looked uncomfortable too. Something about shots got easier when you were already drunk. Though it _was_ easier to get drunk doing shots so... double edged sword really.

 

Two beeps sounded from outside. A large mummy was in the front seat of the van in the driveway, chunks of brown wavy hair and two brown eyes sticking out under the layers of bandages.

 

Sado’s maroon van was both the butt of jokes and a saving grace for the group of friends. The van was massive, much like the man who owned it, seating 10 people legally, though legend had it, they’d once gotten 18 people in there. Big as it was, it was also ugly as sin. The previous owner had painted two humanoid arms on either side. One looked like a weird rocket and the other like a shield. Sado refused to get it painted over though; he insisted it would be bad luck.

 

They could always count on Sado to be the designated driver. He almost never drank, which frequently made him the mother hen of the group. He was notorious for making rounds with glasses of water, taking the shoes off of anyone who passed out, and fetching cheap tacos for everyone towards the end of the night. The only time anyone saw him drink was at the parties they hosted, and even then he was no party animal. Ichigo was convinced it was all part of his gossip scheme, drunk people with loose lips and all that.

 

Sometimes on the weekend, Sado would run a shuttle service from campus to the various parties happening around town. He had a reputation for having the cheapest rates for rides, but often, the generous tips he received from his drunken passengers more than made up for the discounted price. Halloween weekend was too good of a business opportunity to miss, so tonight he was starting his rounds with his own housemates.

 

At Ikkaku’s insistence, the group did one last round of shots before piling into the van. He took the front passenger seat and the aux cord, DJing their way to the inauspicious house that hosted every party thrown by the theater students.

 

Over his years at college, Ichigo had been to this house once or twice, but Yumichika was a regular. When the group arrived in the driveway, a table was set in front of the gate to the backyard. Two students sat there, and, seeing Yumichika and his extravagant costume, they began snapping, a chorus of “yasss” coming from them.

 

Yumichika gave a twirl, showing off his cape, which truthfully, was fantastic. Ikkaku came over, placing a protective hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He knew his boyfriend was attractive, and even after two years of dating couldn’t help being jealous seeing someone else lavish attention on him.

 

“Five bucks, everyone,” said the smaller boy behind the table.

 

In exchange, they got wristbands and a plastic cup, which, according to Yumichika’s twinky theater friends, were good for beer and mixed drink. He lead them to the back porch and into the house, already crowded and pulsing with music. Whatever song was on must have been popular, because almost everyone was singing along. In front of Ichigo, Orihime grabbed his wrist, and dragged him along as she followed Yumichika down to the basement, the rest of the group trailing behind him.

 

Much like the house where Renji, Ikkaku, and Sado lived, this drama house had been passed down over the generations from graduating seniors to the upperclassmen replacing them. Like a frat house, the legacy of theater students past lived on in the walls of the house. It was covered with show posters, some dating back over 10 years. It was grimy, just like Renji’s house, but the floors here were covered in a light dusting of ground in glitter that would never truly disappear.

 

The basement was, if possible, much louder. The residents of the house had built a bar in the corner and were serving shots of cheap alcohol, beer from a keg, and some sort of colorful mixed drink in a suspicious bucket that Ichigo eyed warily.

 

The rest of the room was a makeshift dance floor, which Yumichika took to immediately and without warning, dragging Ikkaku suddenly along with him.  

 

Renji openly laughed at the scene, Ikkaku’s displeasure was obvious. He helped himself to a beer and made himself comfortable on the arm of a sofa that Orihime and Rukia had taken over.

 

Once he got into it, Ikkaku was actually a good dancer, and the shots back at the house probably didn’t hurt either. It seemed like Yumichika’s natural grace and general beauty had rubbed off on him a bit, though Ikkaku’s face always looked a bit pained, like he was thinking really hard about it, or like he was about to get in a fight.

 

“If you look closely, that’s the same expression Ikkaku wears when he’s playing soccer,” Renji leaned over to Ichigo, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

 

“Yeah, he always looked like that in our math class junior year as well,” Ichigo said.

 

“I imagine it’s the same one he’s got on in bed, too.” Renji’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.

 

“God, please don’t do this to me,” Ichigo complained. “It’s bad enough I had to watch them grope each other earlier, plus your short story about them fucking.” He turned away, unable to look at the his dancing friends anymore, thanks to the image of a sweaty, mid-coitus Ikkaku now burned into his mind’s eye. “Why’d you have to put that image in my head?”

 

“Look, if I have to be burdened with these thoughts, so do you,” Renji said with an unapologetic shrug. He took another long drink of his beer while looking around the room. “I don’t fucking know anyone here.”

 

“Yeah, I’m in the same boat, I think. I mean, I know it’s a masquerade party or whatever, but damn.”

 

“I guess. You’re the one with the mask on, not me.”

 

“Fair enough. What do you think, like 60% people wearing masks?”

 

“More. Looks like a fuckin heist movie down here.”

 

Renji looked around the room casually, then nodded at Ichigo. “You don’t know that guy, do you?” he said, jutting his chin towards the stairs.

 

Ichigo looked over, only to see a tall man in all black turning away. “I don’t think so? He’s wearing a mask, so..”

 

“He was checking you out, then,” Renji grinned, slapping Ichigo on the leg

 

“How could you possibly know this?”

 

“I just know. He turned away too quickly.”

 

“You don’t think he was just looking at your weirdly big head?”

 

“Alright, fine,” Renji said, his hands up. “If that’s how you want to play it, that’s okay. I’m just trying to wingman you here. Just pointing you in the right direction.”

 

Ichigo couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Okay, well, thanks, I guess. What are you going to do, go over there and tell him, ‘Hey, my friend thinks you’re hot’?”

 

“You want me to?” Renji started making an exaggeratedly slow move in the direction the man had disappeared in.

 

“No!” Ichigo yelped, embarrassingly high pitched, though it was drowned out by the loud music.

 

Renji’s smile was smug as he sat back down on the couch’s arm. “Alright, if you say so.”

 

“I’m going to kill you one day.”

 

“We’ll see. You can’t kill me if you’re blushing in a corner.”

 

“You really think I want to hook up with some random tonight? And then what? Like, talk to them? About me? About my life? Their life? Absolutely not.” Ichigo was harshly reminded of when Rukia called him out for being a prude. He wasn’t a prude though, he thought.

 

“What? No one is saying you have to date them. Literally just go let off some steam. You’re constantly wound up, its painful to watch. You know what I mean,” Renji added, when he saw the hurt look on Ichigo’s face. “I just want you to be happy, man.”

 

“You and everyone else, apparently.”

 

Ichigo looked away from his friend to see Yumichika and Ikkaku starting to make their way back to the group on the couch.

 

“I want to play a game. They’ve got tables upstairs,” Ikkaku said, clearly exhausted by trying to keep up with Yumichika on the dance floor.

 

“I would like to play some slap cup, but I’m down for anything,” Orihime spoke up from the couch. She and Rukia had been carrying on their own conversation, trying to determine the unholy combination of ingredients in the jungle juice they were both drinking, Rukia more cautiously sipping than Orihime.  

 

“I want another beer,” Renji said, draining his cup.

 

“I would like to use the restroom. Where is it, Yumi?”

 

“Oh I’ll send you to the secret one, there’s probably no line. The rest of you follow me, you needy children. You act like you can’t do stuff at a party without me.”

 

Yumichika directed Ichigo towards a weird doorway to the side of the basement, the opening camouflaged by a a throw blanket emblazoned with Bette Midler’s face. Behind it, a hall that really fit the Halloween spirit led to small, dank laundry room. In the corner, a slender boy was heaving his guts into the utility sink while his friend, dressed as a bumble bee, patted his back soothingly. On the right, the bathroom door was slightly ajar.

 

Though Ichigo finished up quickly, by the time he left the small bathroom, the vomiting freshman and his guardian bumble bee were gone. Relieved to be out of the noise and crowd for a moment, he took his time looking around the cement blocked room. There hadn’t been a mirror in the bathroom, but there was one over this laundry sink. The medicine cabinet held powdered detergent, an empty box of dryer sheets, and a first aid kit. Ichigo looked at himself in the mirror, the way one does when they’re drunker than they thought and trying to keep it together, admiring his new hair color and the weird sense of anonymity it brought him. Renji’s words, _and Rukia’s, and Yumichika’s,_ were echoing in his head. Maybe he did need to find someone to unwind with. Better to do it while full of liquid courage and masked than with the _other_ alternative that Ichigo refused to let himself think about. He was about to remove his mask and rub his eyes when a presence he hadn’t noticed earlier made itself known.

 

“ _Tch tch tch_ ” came a voice from the hall behind him.

 

Ichigo wheeled around, caught off guard. “Uh, what?”

 

“Isn’t that the noise you make when you want to get a cat’s attention?” A tall, broad shouldered man stepped out of the shadow, repeating the noise. His posture was loose and casual, his hands stuck in his pockets. It was the same person Ichigo had seen coming down the stairs.

 

“Oh very funny,” he replied sarcastically. And what are you supposed to be anyway?”

 

The man was dressed head to toe in black, leather boots coming up his calf and a billowy black shirt with a low neck that exposed part of what promised to be a well defined chest. A large handkerchief covered his hair entirely and a black mask covered his eyes, cheekbones, and most of his nose. At his waist, a plastic sword was tucked into his belt.

 

“Hazard a guess?” The masked stranger taunted, irritating Ichigo more than it should have.

 

“I’m the masked bandit, Zorro,” the man supplied after Ichigo took too long to answer. “Although someone more romantic might say I’m Wesley from the Princess Bride. Do you have a preference?”

 

“Zorro.”

 

“Como deseés.”

 

Ichigo didn’t understand the Spanish and wished that Sado was there to translate for him. He felt his face grow red under his mask. Only way to make up for his embarrassment was to establish dominance right? He began to close the gap between them.

 

“Doesn’t Zorro have a hat and cape?” he asked a bit more bitingly than he meant.

 

“Got me there, guess I’m the Dread Pirate Roberts after all,” the bandit replied, unaffected by Ichigo’s taunt. “Though, to be fair, they have a lot in common. Dressed in black, suave as hell, good with a sword.” The man winked.

 

The wink caught him off guard. Again. Ichigo forgot he had started moving closer to him when he suddenly realized how little space remained between them, and that he had nowhere to go. Coolly, he leaned against the other side of the hall, determined to be aloof and willing himself to be more sober.

 

“So, _stranger,_ you just follow boys into the bathroom?”

 

“I didn’t realize this was a bathroom, but you can’t blame me for wanting to say hi.”

 

The lightbulb finally clicked in his head.

 

“Oh is that what you wanted to do?” Ichigo replied smoothly. Maybe Renji had pointed him in the right direction after all.

 

“Well, it’s a good start anyway, don’t you think?” came the reply.

 

Ichigo started to take a good look at the stranger. The man was a few inches taller than him, and more muscular. Though most of his face was covered, a strong jawline stuck out prominently, but what Ichigo noticed most were his startling blue eyes, peering out from the mask. He continued to gaze up into them, drawn in magnetically, when from the other end of the hall came a shout.

 

“Look out!”

 

Bumblebee girl was back, this time with a different hurling teenager, no doubt drunk for the first time. She pushed him down the hallway, in between the pair, effectively breaking the tension between Ichigo and this supposed Zorro. The atmospheric sounds of vomiting echoed in the sink, reverberating off the concrete walls and killing the mood.

 

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Ichigo blurted out, “I should go check on my friends.” With that, he turned his back and walked briskly out of the hall.

 

Ichigo decided he needed some air. Pushing his way past a pair of underclassmen who were getting incredibly sloppy, he made his way out of the basement and into the living room, grabbing another beer on the way. He needed it. There, he found Ikkaku and Renji at a beer pong table, facing off against someone that Ichigo hadn’t realized was at the party.

 

Tatsuki and Orihime were standing at the far edge of the table, and were handily beating the boys at the game. They had both pushed their masks up onto the top of their heads, clearly choosing to give up on the charade in favor of optimal playing conditions. Tatsuki, the taller of the two, had one arm wrapped securely around Orihime, casually sinking a ping pong ball into a cup on the other side of the table.

 

“Fuck, God, Tatsuki, give us a chance will you?” Renji complained.

 

“Don’t know what to tell you, dude, get good,” she replied, using her free hand to take a sip of her drink.

 

“There you are, man, you’ve been gone forever,” Ikkaku said, realizing that Ichigo had joined them.

 

“Who?...” Tatsuki began to ask, looking at Ichigo.

 

“It’s obviously Ichigo,” Rukia supplied, standing slightly behind Renji, trying to hype him up for his turn at the game at hand by rubbing his shoulders.

 

“Wha- obviously?” Tatsuki said, incredulously.

 

To prove it, Ichigo lifted his mask a little and winked, before bringing it back down with a chuckle.

 

“Oh, jeez, sorry. I didn’t realize how much I relied on your hair to find you!” she laughed. Her laugh quickly stopped as a whoop came up from the boys end of the table.

 

“Hell yeah! This is a come back!” Renji rejoiced.

 

“It’s one cup, dude, you need like 5 to even have a chance of beating us,” Orihime said, her words slurring ever so slightly. Maybe Tatsuki was just holding her up at this point. Maybe they were holding each other up like a three legged race? Either way, they seemed to be doing better than Ikkaku and Renji.

 

“It’s a start, anyway,” Ikkaku grinned, his mouth a little lopsided.

 

“You say that, babe, but I’m going to have to start rooting for the other team if you don’t start playing better, know what I mean?” Yumichika said slyly. He was standing in the middle of the table, on the opposite side of the table as Ichigo.

 

They did not start playing better. By the end of the game, even Rukia was reluctantly cheering against her own boyfriend. No one was up next for the table, and Renji insisted that they’d win the next one. Ichigo was chosen to be the one to go back down to the keg in the basement with a pitcher to refill the cups, mostly by default because Ikkaku and Yumichika started making out, Rukia was trying to give Renji strategies, and Tatsuki was all but holding Orihime up.

 

The basement continued to pulse with energy. It was somehow crazier than before, if possible. Someone had found a cheap disco ball light, which flashed colors rhythmically through the darkened room.

 

Ichigo wove his way through the crowd, trying and failing to remember where the keg was. Was the basement really that big? Had there always been a pair of underwear on that picture frame? The change in lighting was disorienting, and the sea of unfamiliar bodies pressing against him was uncomfortable in his drunken state. A particularly strong push nudged him into a corner and sent him stumbling through the wall. Ichigo found himself once again in the hall to the secret bathroom.

 

 _Surely it was a sign_ , he thought as he stepped further into the passageway for refuge. It was so much more quiet, a little haven made just for him. The flush of a toilet spoiled it all. The bathroom door swung open, revealing who else but the man in black.

 

“How the tables turn, huh?” he spoke, a smile curling across his face as he did. “Now you’re the one following _me_ to the bathroom.”

 

“I swear I had no idea you were in there,” Ichigo protested.

 

“You sure? I’m not convinced,” he rumbled. In a few steps he closed the distance between them. Suddenly Ichigo felt very small, looking up only the few inches at the man who towered over him.

 

“Honestly,” Ichigo breathed, eyes locked with the blue ones that peered out from the mask.

 

Backing into the wall, seeking some, if any stability at all, was completely unsuccessful. The stranger pressed forward, hand stretched out to the wall as well, and leaned, however slightly above Ichigo.

 

“I was looking for you,” the man spoke, words tickling Ichigo’s cheek.

 

“Must not have looked that hard,”Ichigo gulped. This was- well, this was too aggressive. Sure, he was pretty thick about noticing a come-on, but _god_. Part of him wanted to just lean into it, let the liquid courage in his veins take over and let him be a normal college student. Instead he pulled the still empty pitcher to his chest and ducked under the arm that caged him.

 

He didn’t want to run away though, there was something so fun about being pursued like this, something that he had been longing for. What was wrong with a little fun? Plus, the tiny frown on the handsome stranger’s face was so cute, so familiar that Ichigo ached.

 

“What brings you back to this hallway, gatito? Wanted to reminisce on our time together?”

 

“No, I just got pushed in here.”

 

“By the hands of fate, it seems.” The smile was back. It played across his face like it was meant to be there, and yet the frown had felt more right to Ichigo.

 

“Maybe,” he replied, as coyly as he could. Flirting was not something that came naturally to him. He was always told that he was too pig-headed and stubborn for it, but now it just seemed like breathing. Whatever he wanted to say to this- who knows, maybe figment if his imagination for all Ichigo knew- just came out.

 

“I’m glad for it. I’ve always been a cat person, you know.”

 

Ichigo fidgeted with his tail. “I’ve always been a pirate person.”

 

“What-”

 

“You know, like, over astronauts or cowboys or whatever. Always been a pirate guy.”

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

Alright, well, maybe flirting wasn’t coming that easily. Ichigo cast about for another topic, literally anything to cover up his awkwardness. “I have to get beer!” he practically yelled out, waving the pitcher as evidence to his claim.

 

“You’re in the wrong place for that, you know,” the reply so smooth, as if Ichigo hadn’t just said the weirdest thing ever.

 

“I was trying to find the keg.”

 

“I can probably help you with that,” he said. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he strode forward, grabbing Ichigo’s hand and pulling him back into the frenzy. Strong arms guided him through the crowd, broad shoulders parted the sea with confidence. In a daze, Ichigo peeled his eyes away from the muscled back that had been leading him to realize that they’d arrived at the keg in the corner of the basement.

 

“Might I assist you?” the stranger said, in playful politeness. He gestured at the pitcher in Ichigo’s hands.

 

Ichigo held it out, and watched with intensity as he pumped the keg. His arms... Even in the billowy shirt, now pushed up to his elbows, it was like a show made just for him. He couldn’t look away, but out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Yumichika coming down the basement stairs. His head swiveled around, presumably looking for Ichigo. The room was buzzing, he thought.

 

“This is for you.”

 

Ichigo snapped back. The buzzing was talking. Oh. He accepted the now full pitcher with a murmured thank you, realizing again that this masked guy was standing over him. Lips slightly parted, Ichigo noted. So close, he thought. His mouth was so close, he thought, that if he wanted to, he could breathe life into it. Or maybe, just-

 

“There you are!”

 

Yumichika grabbed Ichigo’s shoulder, nearly sloshing beer from the pitcher down the front of Ichigo’s shirt.

 

“Oh sorry! Here let me take that.” Yumichika snatched the pitcher from Ichigo’s hands and gave the pair a once over. He looked truly sorry to have split them up. “We wanted to start the next game. Will you be joining us?”

 

Ichigo couldn’t tell if that was his way of implying something, but whatever the intent, the moment was gone, and clarity had returned. He looked at the waiting eyes and mouth of his pirate and what little pluckiness he had failed him.

 

“See ya,” he said instead, pushing Yumichika forward and practically fleeing the scene.

 

“What was all that about?” Yumi whispered in his ear. Well, it may as well have been a whisper given all the noise around them though he looked like he was yelling.

 

“Nothing! I don’t know!” Ichigo said back, a little too quickly.

 

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Yumi said pointedly. “ God. _‘See ya!’_ I’ve never had worse second hand embarrassment.”

 

“Well, it was. It was nothing.” He felt like he was trying to convince himself. 

 

Ikkaku, a godsend in disguise, leaped at Yumichika once he returned. Ichigo never thought he’d be actually happy to see them making out. Desperate to keep that line of conversation dead and buried, he busied himself with refilling everyone’s cups.

 

“I’ve been practicing,” Renji announced happily, dunking the ball into one of the water-filled cups in front of him. He aimed at the other end with what seemed intense focus, then completely over-shot the table.

 

Though it seemed impossible, Ikkaku and Renji played worse than the round before. Topping off the scene was Orihime, constantly reminding everyone how good she was at playing beer pong while drunk. Tatsuki nodded along solemnly, though she couldn’t hide that she, too, was in her own sweet spot of drunken pong ability.

 

After Ikkaku missed yet another cup, Yumichika motioned to Ichigo, “Come walk with me for a second, I need fresh air.”

 

“Babe, if you leave it’s bad luck for me,” Ikkaku protested.

 

“Seems like I’m bad luck right now.”

 

A chorus of “oooohhh” came up from the girls, and with that, Yumichika grabbed Ichigo’s shoulder and started to steer him towards the back door.

 

The pair navigated their way out of the crowded house onto the back porch. It was largely unoccupied, save for a handful of people smoking. A girl dressed as a witch that Ichigo didn’t recognize greeted Yumichika and offered a cigarette.

 

“You think someone with skin like me smokes cigarettes?” Yumichika scoffed jokingly.

 

She laughed and pulled out a joint instead. This time, Yumichika accepted and took one long drag. He turned back to Ichigo, who was leaning back against the porch railing.

 

“Someone’s been watching you,” he breathed out slowly, releasing a cloud of smoke with it.

 

“Oh,” Ichigo replied. He wanted to ignore it, wanted to pretend that Yumichika hadn’t caught him so close to doing, well, something.

 

“The one with the sword.”

 

“Yeah, we ran into each other as I was leaving the restroom.” If he couldn’t deny it, he might as well try to play it off as normal.

 

“Hmmm...” Yumichika hummed. They both gazed out into the yard for several long minutes. “You gonna try to hit that then?”

 

“That?” Ichigo asked, pointing at the joint.

 

“Oh, no, I mean unless you want to,” Yumichika said, offering. Ichigo shook his head no. “I meant Zorro back there. I didn't mean to split you up.” He handed the joint back to the girl behind him.

 

“He’s really more like Dread Pirate Roberts.”

 

“Who?”

 

“From The Princess Bride. Zorro has a hat and cape.”

 

“I see.”

 

“We talked about it is all.”

 

“Mmm. Well you should ask him if he needs some booty, being a pirate and all.”

 

Ichigo bristled. “I don’t even know who he is!”

 

“That’s part of the fun, right? Besides, even if you can’t see his face, no doubt he’s hot. Just go make out in the bushes. Or like, see what’s up with his bush, yeah?”

 

“What!” Ichigo yelped, louder than he meant to and earning a few shushes from the other people on the porch.

 

Yumichika shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s my job as your gayest friend to encourage this behavior. Besides, now that I’m all settled down, I have to live my fantasies through you.”

 

“Jesus, Yumi, is Ikkaku not enough for you?”

 

“Oh, no, he’s more than enough for me. Why do you think I’ve stayed with him?” Yumichika grinned wickedly, raised eyebrows filled with implication.

 

“Ohhhhhkay, that’s.. that’s enough. I’m good. Renji tells me enough about it as it is.”

 

“Oh didn’t realize Abarai was into that.”

 

“Yikes, please. I’m in hell having this conversation. Please stop making me talk about your sex life.” Ichigo’s expression changed from joking to serious. “You think I should though? I’m not really a hookup kind of guy. I never know when people are flirting with me. It took like a full three minutes to realize that guy was making a pass.”

 

Yumichika turned to Ichigo, still holding the joint. “I think,” he said after a moment, “if you want to, you shouldn’t hold back just because you think you _shouldn’t_. Ikkaku and I didn’t get together for the longest time cause I didn’t want to make it weird, but I’m glad I did. I’m not saying you’re gonna date this dude or anything, I just mean that you gotta put yourself out there sometimes. And not for nothing, but I’m pretty sure this guy is flirting with you.”

 

“I know.”

 

The door to the house behind them closed with an abrupt slam. In front of it stood the tall pirate in black, his thumbs looped into his belt.

 

“I’ll call in 15 minutes if you need an out,” Yumichika whispered into Ichigo’s ear, resting his hand on the other’s shoulder. With a wink towards Ichigo and a wave to his, at this point, very high friends on the other end of the porch, Yumichika slid past the muscular frame blocking the door, conspicuously dragging his hand across the man’s biceps and flashing a polite, apologetic smile before disappearing back into the house.

 

“Lost you for a minute there.”

 

“Mmmm, sorry, it’s hard to get to know someone with the ambient sounds of hurling in the background,” Ichigo said, flippantly.

 

“And the second time? Didn’t want to get to know me then?”

 

Ichigo didn’t have an answer for that. He just looked back out into the dark yard.

 

“Do you know him?” The guy had taken Yumichika’s spot leaning on the porch railing and jutted his thumb towards the door.

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“He looks familiar, seen him around. I guess he knows a lot of people. You here with friends?”

 

“A few, though I don’t know most people here.”

 

“You know me.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s true. Do you know me?”

 

“I’d like to.”

 

The atmosphere around them buzzed, the sound of the smoker’s unintelligible conversation seemed to fade away, though the words just spoken between the pair hung in the air. Ichigo tried to find something around them to focus on. His eyes flicked from his own hands to the cement patio floor, then the man’s boots. The rusted old grill behind him. The black clad shoulders of the heavy presence in front of him. The exposed clavicle that connected to the other shoulder. Back down to the other’s hands. Up to the hard jaw line, where an expectant grin was waiting on slightly parted lips. Bright blue eyes that felt familiar right away pierced through the mask, searching Ichigo’s own face for any reaction at all.

 

Their lips met before Ichigo could look away.

 

A strong but decidedly gentle hand pulled his head in close. The touch somehow cautious without wanting to push it’s luck. After a few moments, the man pulled away from the surprisingly chaste kiss.

 

“Would you, uhh, would you like to...” the man stuttered, his confidence fading for the first time.

 

Ichigo grabbed the hand that was still lingering on his cheek and started leading the way off the porch. The pair turned the corner around the house and Ichigo turned to the owner of the hand he was holding. All initial hesitation was gone.

 

The gap between them was closed quickly, neither of them bothering with niceties anymore. Desperate hands latched onto lean, hard torsos, working their way up each other’s arms and around each other’s necks.

 

Ichigo’s blood was racing. It had been ages since he had gotten to press himself against someone else, feeling their heat in the cold, October night air. He pressed his lips against the bitter tasting mouth, knowing he must have tasted the same. What started as gentle presses were quickly becoming wild, searching explorations, up jaw lines, down necks, and lightly biting on lips. Ichigo let his hands wander, feeling his way up and down the muscular sides of his temporary partner. Hands tightened around Ichigo’s core, one pulling him close, the other dipping a thumb into Ichigo’s waist band.

 

Ichigo was past the nervousness he had felt earlier.  Eyes closed, his hands roamed up onto the stranger’s face. Lightly, he traced the jaw from chin to ear lobe, stubble pricking him along the way. Consciously avoiding the mask, he allowed his fingers to sneak under the kerchief, intertwining with strands of hair that were trapped underneath. He used his newfound hand hold to kiss back with renewed vigor, which was received as eagerly as it was given.

 

Minutes ticked by without notice. It seemed like they’d never part when Ichigo’s phone began to ring noisily. Apparently Yumichika followed through with the promise to provide an escape if it was necessary.

 

“Ignore it,” the man breathed into Ichigo’s ear.

 

He was tempted to oblige, but the ringtone, embarrassingly set by Renji earlier in the week, was blaring Careless Whisper, and ironically, it was dampening the mood.

 

Ichigo broke away to silence it. Before he got his phone out, he looked up at the slightly taller man. The blue eyes behind the mask twinkled. Ichigo’s gaze lingered there, before taking in the large smile plastered on the face in front of him, and the wild locks of blue hair that stuck out where Ichigo had freed them.

 

Blue hair.

 

Like, really familiar blue hair.

 

Fuck.

 

Realizing who he was now standing in front of, Ichigo’s eyes and stomach dropped at the same time, looking down at the phone in the palm of his hand just as the call ended.

 

“Uh, I really should take this.”

 

“Are you sure?” the pirate pressed. “I thought we were having a nice time.”

 

“Yeah, uhh, Definitely! I mean...” Ichigo’s voice squeaked slightly, trying to remain collected. “It’s just that he was my ride so...”

 

“I can be your ride.”

 

“Right.” Ichigo coughed, the innuendo burning him up inside. “Just one sec!” He turned abruptly and walked a few paces away, holding the phone to his ear as it dialed Yumichika back.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey to you, I thought when you didn’t answer that meant you were having fun?”

 

“I am. I mean I was, anyway.”

 

“Cryptic, I love it.”

 

“No, I just mean, you know, like, what did you need?” Ichigo stuttered a bit, struggling to make the phone call seem natural.

 

“Well, other than what we talked about before, I wanted to let you know that we’re about to bounce. Sado’s coming back around to pick us up and we’re all going to the diner, so offer’s on the table for that. Though I understand if you’re craving the kind of sausage you can’t order with eggs.”

 

“Yes!” Ichigo said, slightly too eagerly, ignoring Yumichika’s pointed joke. “Where do I need to meet you?”

 

“Outside the front door whenever you’re ready. Last I heard, Sado was just around the corner. Be there or be gay!”

 

The call ended with a beep. Ichigo turned back around to properly face _him_ , who was still grinning slightly, his posture relaxed with his arms crossing his chest. Ugh, god. He could really just stand there and look good. All it took was a mask for Ichigo to admit it.

 

“What’s the word, then?”

 

“I uh, I’ve actually got to go. I forgot I promised to meet up with someone,” Ichigo lied, unconvincingly.

 

Genuine disappointment flashed across what Ichigo could see of his face. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I had fun at least, did you?”

 

“Yeah, I really did.” Ichigo didn’t have to lie this time, though knowing who he had been pressed up against certainly put the experience in a different light.

 

“Can I, uh, get your name?”

 

Ichigo laughed, a bit unintentionally. The question actually brought a lot of relief, since he realized his identity was still a secret. He was really going to have to thank Yumi for the dye job.

 

“Doesn’t that ruin the fun?” Ichigo asked, now confident that he hadn’t been recognized. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

 

“I suppose you’re right.”

 

“Well, until next time. Have a good night!” Ichigo, said turning away.

 

“Como deseés.”

 

The foreign language felt like a bat to the head, a premature throb of an unavoidable hangover that was rushing towards him. God, _how_ did he not realize sooner. He’d been given so many hints. Rather than worry about it now, Ichigo flashed one more grin behind him and headed towards the front of the house to meet his friends.

 

Sado was parked out front, Yumichika leaning on open sliding door.

 

“Took you long enough,” he said smirking, a mischievous look on his face.

 

“Ah, yeah, thanks for waiting.”

 

“Ichiiiiiiiii, let’s goooooooooo,” came a voice from the very back seat. “I neeeeeed frieeessssss.”

 

“Is that Orihime?” Ichigo whispered to Yumichika.

 

“Yeah, she’s feeling good.”

 

“I’d be feeling good if we were en route to the diner. Where were you?” Rukia asked from the center row. Tatsuki, Renji and Ikkaku were all sandwiched in the back next to Orihime, who seemed to be going strong against all odds.

 

“Just in the bathroom! Let’s go!”

 

Ichigo took the front seat next to Sado, and Yumichika pulled the passenger door closed behind him.

 

“Pass me the aux cord!” Ikkaku yelled from the back.

 

“You’re too far, sorry,” Rukia said flatly, not sounding sorry at all. Her phone was plugged in and she had a playlist of throwbacks going. Ikkaku’s complaint was soon drowned out by the entire car yelling along to the chorus of The Sweater Song.

 

They pulled into their favorite late night spot, a bizarre 24hr restaurant called Buccaneer Diner 2. The exterior of building was nautically themed, though the inside was painted entirely in blue, green, pink, and yellow pastels, with vague marine notions scattered about the room. The restaurant never had more than ten other people in it, employees included, but the food was cheap and filling, perfect after a night out.

 

“I can’t believe we still haven’t found Buccaneer Diner 1,” Renji remarked, as they settled into the large, circular booth in the corner, big enough for all of them.

 

“I think it burned down,” Rukia said, based on seemingly nothing.

 

“And they just built this one on top of it?” Orihime’s eyes widened, her gullible nature only heightened by her slightly intoxicated state.

 

“Mmmm. Like a phoenix from the ashes. I can only hope the rest of you can have as successful a glow up,” Yumichika said, pushing his hair out of his face.

 

“Maybe that’s why it feels so haunted here?” Ikkaku laughed, one arm slung around Yumichika’s shoulders.

 

Ichigo studied the menu. Next to the breakfast section, an illustration of a particularly flamboyant pirate stared back at him. It reminded him of the other, apparently gay, Ichigo was shocked to realize, pirate he had been with that night.

 

What the fuck. What the fuck was he thinking? What kind of association was that? Either way, it was time to come to grips with the fact that he had just been making out with Grimmjow.

 

Okay, yeah, he had just been making out with Grimmjow. Was that so hard to say? So what?

 

So that’s weird, fine, he’d admit it. To say that they had never gotten along was, well, an understatement. Even though they managed to be mostly civil in class, Ichigo wasn’t going to pretend like everything was fixed. And to say that he hadn’t thought about it, that’d just be a lie. But he had never seen this charming, flirty side. It had to be fake, right? Replaying the events of the night, he felt kind of stupid. How had he not realized earlier. The only person he knew that spoke Spanish, other than Sado of course, was Grimmjow. It should have been a huge give away. Grimmjow was constantly throwing out words phrases here and there, during fights, in the grocery store- the way his voice curled and rolled around the softened words, god.

 

Ichigo couldn’t stop staring at the illustration, when a shove from Renji let him know the waitress was waiting on his order. Looking up from the menu, he ordered a the breakfast special #1, which was basically only thing he could think of, since the pirate illustration was pointing it’s sword right at it.

 

When the waitress left, Ichigo excused himself and headed towards the bathroom to go wash his hands, no doubt disgusting from the night. Renji followed.

 

The bathrooms were as oddly decorated as the rest of the diner. The tiled walls were covered in little yellow flowers that looked like they had been drawn on by elementary school students in puffy paint, while a large lobster trap hung from the ceiling, plastic crustaceans inside.

 

Ichigo was furiously scrubbing at his hands while Renji broke the seal at the urinals behind him. Once he finished, he joined Ichigo at the sinks.

 

“So, good night?”

 

“Oh, yeah, definitely one for the books.”

 

“Mm, really? Cause you’re acting a bit off.  Want to clue in your straight best friend?”

 

“You can just say best friend,” Ichigo sighed. “You don’t need a modifier.”

 

“I know, but Yumi is your gay best friend... I don’t know I thought I’d give it a try,” Renji said, seeming surprisingly disappointed that the nickname wouldn’t stick. “Anyway, you have to tell me what’s going on, it’s bro law. I saw that one dude lusting after you like all night long so, as your _gay_ best friend would say, spill.” He emphasized the last word with a faux hair flip, stealing Yumichika’s signature move.

 

“Okay! Okay, you broke me down. It’s not like it’s a secret. I uh, well. I was making out with that guy, you know the one dressed as a pirate...”

 

“Get it.”

 

“Shut up”

 

“I’m being supportive!”

 

“Shut up, anyway, we were making out, and I realized, cause of his hair, that it was, uhm, Grimmjow.”

 

A heavy pause followed, accented by a shocked look on Renji’s face.

 

“Like Grimmjow from our class,” Ichigo continued.

 

“Yeah, cause we know so many Grimmjow’s,” Renji said sarcastically. “You only talk about him every day.”

 

Ichigo coughed out a laugh. “So.. yeah... that’s what’s up. I mean, like nothing happened, other than, y’know, just uh, general groping,’ Ichigo finished, anticlimactically.

 

“Okay. Did he realize it was you? Not for nothing, but you look distinctly like, well, not you, to be honest,” Renji said, gesturing wildly at Ichigo.

 

Ichigo turned back to the mirror. Now that his mask was off, it was easier to look like himself, but still, Renji had a point. He may as well have been walking around in someone else’s skin, considering the all black and the tight sweater that he’d never wear on a regular day.

 

“No, I don’t think he did,” Ichigo said, almost sad. “He did ask for my name though.”

 

“Damn, you should have gotten his number,” Renji said.

 

“I already have it, idiot, we’re lab partners.”

 

“Right. Well. Hmm.” For once, Renji was at a loss for words.

 

“I don’t know what to do. I mean, nothing right? This was just a weird fluke and ultimately means nothing.”

 

“Do you like him?” Renji stared at Ichigo, the way only best friends can when they know you’re lying to yourself.

 

“I don’t know. He ranges from either ignoring me entirely or being outright hostile. Though lately, it feels like we’ve sort of found a middle ground. And the other day at your house was, well, nice. Plus,” Ichigo added reluctantly, “he’s insanely hot.”

 

“Yeah that’s true.”

 

“Wow, coming from my straight best friend?”

 

“I have eyes, Ichigo, I know a specimen when I see one,” Renji said, indignantly.

 

Ichigo started howling with laughter, and Renji joined in, despite himself.

 

“I think I have the perfect plan,” Renji said, trying to catch his breath. “Here’s what needs to happen. In class on Monday, you wear this exact outfit, without the ears and tail obviously,” he added, when he say Ichigo start to protest, “and just go about class really casually. Then at the end of class, ask him how his weekend was. Bonus if you say yours was ‘purrfect’.”

 

“That is...” Ichigo contemplated for a moment. “That, actually could work, but I think I would rather die? Is that bad to say?”

 

Renji laughed. “No, not at all, I would also die. I don’t know man. We can figure it out together though if you want. Let’s head back upstairs, our food is getting cold and they’re gonna think we’re sucking each other off down here or something.”

 

“Disgusting, let’s go.”

 

The pair made their way back to the table. They sat back down to see their food had arrived. Ichigo dug in, hoping that the eggs and bacon would stave off the hangover that was looming for tomorrow morning. He’d deal with everything later. For now, he took a moment to appreciate what he had; people around him, who genuinely wanted the best for him.

 

Later that night, though it was technically morning, Ichigo trudged back into his own dorm. Exhausted as he was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep yet. Instead he went into the communal bathroom that was shared by all the men on his floor. It was completely deserted at this hour. He claimed one of the shower stalls and let the water run while he got undressed.

 

When the water was sufficiently warm, he stepped under the shower head, letting the water flow over his shoulders and down his back. The little rivers running over his head and body turned black as the hair dye loosened itself from Ichigo’s hair and ran towards the drain. He watched the water that pooled on the shower floor turn opaque, and spiral around before disappearing into the pipes below him. With it, he let his anxieties of the night disappear too. He lost track of time, and stood in the scalding water until both his mind and the water were clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It happened lol
> 
> Do you think if I add enough irl locations from my college days someone will call me out for attending [REDACTED] University??? Anyway thanks for coming as always!
> 
> UPDATE!
> 
> This lovely art added here at the end is by PacificOuroboros and!! I really can't believe it! Thank you so so much to them for both the art and the general support on this fic! The texture on this is just *chef's kiss*


	8. Chapter 8

Grimmjow’s hands were tinged with something black. 

 

He hadn’t noticed it until he got home that night. It was obvious that those drama kids really needed to run a mop in that basement, but damn. Gross. Back in the bathroom of his dorm, he scrubbed at his palms suspiciously, and luckily it came off with a little force. His hair fell in his face annoyingly while he worked at the sink; eventually, he decided to call it a night before he took scissors to the offending strands in frustration.

 

In his own bed, Grimmjow couldn’t help but feel the full effects of his earlier embarrassment, heightened by the heavy, burning alcohol in his stomach. What did he do that had made that other guy basically run away? They had really clicked, in some way that he didn’t quite understand. Both of them were hot, both, wanted to mess around. Wasn’t that what it was all about?

 

At least his dignity was spared. He didn’t know the other guy, the other guy didn’t know him. Honestly, if more hookups could be like that, the world would be a better place.   
  


It was frustrating though. I mean, come on! Who was he? Grimmjow raked a hand through his hair in annoyance and stared at the ceiling of his dorm. He hadn’t even wanted to go to that party. 

 

Originally, he was going to go to a haunted house with Nel, Ulquiorra, and Orihime. It would have been awesome; he could have scared Nel a bunch, then they’d get drunk and play Mario Kart in Ulquiorra’s dorm or something. Of course what could have been the perfect evening was ruined by two huge things. 

 

One, Nel had been completely knocked out by the flu. She was throwing back liquid NyQuil like shots and her roommates, Pesche and Dondochakka, would not let her out of their sight. 

 

Two, Ulquiorra and Orihime has gotten in a fight. Something about how Ulquiorra was trying to keep Orihime captive, that they never hung out with her friends, blah, blah, blah. Grimmjow couldn’t get the full story out of his tight lipped friend, who locked himself in the dark room with a semester’s worth of film to develop. 

 

That left Grimmjow basically alone. On Saturday morning in the cafeteria, he overheard two freshman drama students talking loudly about a masquerade party. From there the wheels started turning. If he couldn’t do what he wanted to, he’d at least get drunk for cheap and laid.

 

The costume he stole out of the art studio’s lost and found. It was full of random clothing, and leave it up to art students to have weird enough taste that a basically fully formed pirate outfit was just ripe for the taking. The sword was a gag gift from Nel two years ago. “A really big prick” or something had been written on the card. 

 

The rest was history. Or so Grimmjow wanted it to be. He’d arrived at the party, knowing no one, and suddenly felt incredibly out of place. His plan was, well, bad. But he had committed, and taken several shots. And paid five bucks to get in, but who was counting? And he’d seen him. Whoever he was. He just looked, and Grimmjow felt stupid for even thinking it, but, nice. And hot, obviously. That sweater, god, it didn’t really fit him and Grimmjow was more than okay with it. It pulled up over and over again exposing just little bit of toned stomach. And the way that he smiled, even under his mask was just...

 

He had recognized two of the people that his would-be hook up had been with. Renji and Rukia. They were in cooking class, and he’d seen them around, but he actively ignored just about everything they did because they were the most obnoxious couple he’d ever seen. Worse than the time that Nel had dated that lanky fucker. Either way, there was no good way to ask them about who they’d been with, since he had literally never gone out of his way to talk to them. Rukia would probably get suspicious on why he was talking to them; she was way too sharp to not figure it out.

 

Well, Orihime had been around too, but he couldn’t tell if that was just a proximity thing. The house was so damn packed as it was, and the chick was fucking white girl wasted, probably drinking off whatever her fight with Ulquiorra had been about. Grimmjow had avoided her at all costs. There was no way he was gonna touch their situation. 

 

His only other lead was the bat guy with shiny hair that had been on the porch. He was familiar, but for the life of him, Grimmjow could not place him. The makeup he had worn was a mask in and of itself, and whoever it was wasn’t someone he knew well, if at all.  

 

The worst part of it was that, despite the fact that he had been masked, he felt so vulnerable. Usually, with hookups, it was easy in, easy out. He could be gruff and coarse, and that was fine because people already knew he was like that coming in. With this, he had actively tried to be cool and funny, and, dare he even think it, a little flirty. And it didn’t pay off. 

 

Well, fuck it. He’d stick to what he knew. He was attractive enough to get away with being a dick, and it worked for him. No need to change a formula that basically guaranteed success.

 

Monday came too fast. Grimmjow’s Sunday had been spent almost entirely in the studio, catching up on work he had ignored. Alone, he noted, since Nel was still sick and Ulquiorra was in self-imposed exile. The thing about being a fine arts major was that while business majors could shit out an essay in 45 minutes and still get an A; if he only spent an hour on a painting, his professors would completely rip him for it. 

 

At least his first class wasn’t super early. An 11 AM start meant he could roll out of bed at 10:30 and still make it to class on time, though sometimes, like today, he pushed his luck. He had grabbed the first pair of dark jeans he saw, pulled on a white tee shirt and a paint-covered flannel that had been hanging off the frame of his bed. He was still stuffing his arms into his leather jacket while half running down the stairs out of the building. 

 

His first class went by in a snap. It was mostly note-taking and lecture, which was fine by him. In the seat next to him, Ichigo sat quietly, only occasionally sharing a passing remark with Renji, though, Grimmjow noticed, Ichigo never started a conversation. He was keeping to himself and hadn’t even said anything to Grimmjow beyond an initial, half-hearted greeting. 

 

Whatever. He had other things going on. The only good thing about class was that he could see that Ulquiorra and Orihime had made up, but that also meant he’d be alone in the studio tonight. It was going to be a late one, too, if he ever wanted to finish his landscape assignment, and he was sure that was basically impossible. His only chance was to load up on coffee and hope for the best. 

 

***

 

The old, digital alarm clock on the desk read 1:58, a little red dot on the side indicating AM. Grimmjow rubbed his bleary eyes with a sigh and looked out to the large window in the painting studio, only to see his own reflection blinking back, and inky blackness beyond it. 

 

Sometimes you just have to know when to call it quits. 

 

The canvas Grimmjow was working on had sat basically untouched for the past twenty minutes; the brush strokes that formed the craggy, harsh desert landscape had long since dried. Everyone else in the studio had left long ago, and Grimmjow’s motivation had faded steadily once he had no one else keeping him on task. After lazily cleaning his brushes, he packed up his bag, leaving his desk messy just as the other students had. 

 

It was a quick walk back to his dorm. He usually savored walking at this time of night. The campus was eerily quiet, and a light, hazy rain was falling, making the light from nearby street lamps fuzzy as they guided him home. Tonight however, it was just another step he had to take in order to make it into bed. Once he was back, it took almost nothing to fall asleep. He didn’t even bother to take off his jeans, just kicked off his muddy combat boots at the door and fell into bed. 

 

He awoke with a start. His heart was racing too much, startled by the flashing light and the noise that sounded like a cross between a car alarm and a dying goose. He’d only been asleep for 20 minutes. Fire drill. 

 

“You’ve gotta be fucking  _ kidding  _ me!” A voice yelled out in the hall. The noises of other students leaving their dorms added to the general din. Grimmjow briefly considered staying in bed. Maybe this was just a nightmare? 

 

It wasn’t. The doors slamming and the shrill voice of the RA made the fire alarm impossible to ignore. Begrudgingly, he grabbed his jacket off the bedpost and joined the herd of sleepy, pissed off students that were filing down the stairs and outside.

 

A vicious wind whipped around, promising that winter would come sooner than later. The light rain from Grimmjow’s walk home was steadily turning heavier. It was  _ cold.  _ It was  _ wet.  _ And he had forgotten his phone. He would have forgotten his keys too, but they’d been left in his jacket pocket. At least something had gone his way. The patio area next to the building was overflowing with students, all standing around in various versions of bedclothes and sweatpants. He took small comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only one who was miserable.

 

The firefighters finally arrived after what had to be fifteen minutes of standing in the cold. Though the sirens sounded hurried, the firemen themselves definitely weren’t. They must have thought it was just some freshman burning popcorn or something. Cabrones.

 

Grimmjow settled in on a low retaining wall. This might as well happen, right? Arms over his chest, he bent his head down and closed his eyes. Man, he wished this jacket had a hood. He was probably tired enough to pretend to fall asleep for a little bit.

 

“Jaegerjaquez.” A sharp voice broke through the general noise of displaced students. 

 

Grimmjow blinked several times. He peered up through heavy eyelids to see Ichigo Kurosaki standing over him, hands deep in the pockets of his windbreaker and a weighty looking backpack slung over his shoulders. It was nearly impossible to see his face. His head was blocking the street lamp, a halo of diffused light shining around his spiky head.

 

“What?” It was the only response Grimmjow had ready to go. He was too tired for this shit. 

 

“You live here?” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Obviously. I’m not standing around for nothing.” Grimmjow looked back down, intending it to be a dismissal. But his nuisance of a lab partner just stood there, his eyes hidden behind his hair.

 

“You’ve got white paint on your face,” Kurosaki finally broke the silence. He gestured on his own face, swiping along his cheekbone.

 

Grimmjow felt his face. It was dried, the texture cracking under his fingertips. Inspecting his hands and nails, he realized his hasty brush cleaning job meant his hands were a mess too. A wave of weird embarrassment washed over him. He scrubbed at his cheek a bit, little flecks coming off. 

 

“It’s still there.”

 

Who fucking asked? “The fuck are you doing out here then?”

 

“I was in the library.”

 

“The library closed hours ago. They would have kicked you out.”

 

“Not if you’re in the bathroom when they do last rounds.”

 

“Jesus Christ, they don’t come nerdier than you, huh?” Grimmjow asked, looking up at the figure that loomed over him. 

 

He turned his head into the light, scowling. Good. The look suited him. What kind of person hides in a stall just to spend a couple more hours with a bunch of books?

 

A whistle blew over by the doors to the dorm building, drawing Grimmjow’s attention. A grumble rolled through the crowd. 

 

“What’s happening?” asked a very small boy, a freshman judging by the lanyard, who standing near Grimmjow. 

 

“It was an actual fire, so they can’t let us back in for a while,” replied some other tiny girl. 

 

“Is the building okay?” the first boy asked, panicking 

 

“Apparently someone on the third floor was trying to have a seance,” a third voice piped up. “Their whole bed caught fire!”

 

“Either way, we aren’t getting back in for a while.”

 

Grimmjow looked back up at Kurosaki, who was pushing his hair out of eyes with one hand. The dampness from the light rain kept it combed back in place, making the sheepish look on the guy’s face much more apparent. 

 

“Hey, look, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come back to my dorm.”

 

“That’s a bold offer, Kurosaki.”

 

“It’s up to you, I just figured I’d put it out there. I wouldn’t have said anything if you didn’t look so pathetic out here.”

 

Well, that got Grimmjow’s blood boiling. The fuck did he think he was? 

 

Apparently, Kurosaki could see the hackles raised; he immediately backed down. How unexpected. “I mean it, though. If you want to. It’s gotta be better than staying out here.”

 

Reluctantly, Grimmjow stood up. It wasn’t ideal, but like hell was he going to spend all fucking night out in the rain. Besides, he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. The studio was locked up, plus who was he going to call without a phone? Ulquiorra? Likely in bed having make up sex with his girlfriend. Nel, who slept harder than a drunk toddler? And that was without the cough medicine.

 

The students around them were starting to disperse, some headed towards other dorms, but most were going in the direction of the student center to wait out the rest of the night somewhere marginally drier. Fuck it. 

 

“Fine.”

 

Undisguised shock flashed across the face that stared back at him, but was quickly replaced with a light smile. 

 

“Fine. Let’s go, then.”

 

His unlikely savior started off towards one of the nearby buildings, and Grimmjow quickly fell into step right behind him. The pair walked in silence until they arrived at the door. A name tag shaped like a soccer ball was the only thing on it. They were on the sixth floor of a building Grimmjow had never entered. When he followed him through the door, Grimmjow couldn’t help but stare a little bit. It felt more like a studio apartment than a dorm room. 

 

“Damn, Kurosaki, what’s up with this room?” 

 

“Oh, it’s technically a double.”

 

“But it’s just you?”

 

“Yeah, well, I think it’s a clerical error. I’ve been alone in this room for the past two years, and I don’t want to ask about it in case they take it away,” Ichigo laughed a little nervously, running his hand through his still-wet hair.

 

“Well, shit. You really won the fuckin’ lottery with this one.”

 

A modest couch was in one corner, facing a standard dormitory desk that was cluttered in papers that seemed like a purposeful sort of chaos. The twin bed took up the wall with the window, which looked out at Grimmjow’s own building. The lights of the fire engines shone and refracted in the drops of water that were racing each other down the outside of the window. 

 

His host took his shoes off at the door and Grimmjow followed suit. He stood awkwardly as Kurosaki settled in, hastily messing with stuff on the desk before pulling a blanket and pillow out of the closet.  

 

“You want sweatpants?”

 

“No. Thank you,” he added as an afterthought. He shouldn’t be a dick, after all. 

 

The room was much cleaner than Grimmjow’s own. The bed was made, for one. A large bookshelf lived next to the desk, filled to the brim. Even then, books were spilling out into neat, organized piles next to it. The walls were mostly empty, but there were a few photos on the wall, a university pennant, and last year’s poster for the school’s soccer team, which prominently featured both Kurosaki and Abarai. Over the bed hung a stylized drawing of an old Japanese house. 

 

Grimmjow wandered over to the desk to investigate the photos. He’d never get another chance like this. Another photo of the soccer team. A photo of him and Rukia at their high school graduation. An old family portrait featuring a very small orange haired boy, his father, holding two little girls, and a very beautiful woman with copper hair that Grimmjow could only assume was their mother. 

 

“You’re all set,” Kurosaki called. He patted the pillow on the couch as if he was making sure it was soft enough. He had changed into his own sweatpants at some point. How did Grimmjow miss that? “I’m just going to pass out, I imagine you want to crash too.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” With little ceremony, they both crawled into their respective beds. If Grimmjow hadn’t been so sleepy, he might have noticed Kurosaki hesitating, eyeing him with a mixture of concern and something else. 

 

“Good night,” he said, turning out the lights. Grimmjow didn’t reply. He was already half asleep, and couldn’t be certain if the words were real or imagined. 

***

 

Grimmjow woke up naturally. It was warm, bright, and quiet in the room. He blinked a couple times, appreciating how cozy he was. 

 

Wait, hold on. 

 

He sat up abruptly, taking in his surroundings. He was in Kurosaki’s room. And he was. Somewhere. Not here, that’s for sure. 

 

Stretching, he looked around. The bed was made, and a piece of paper was taped to the door, the writing too small to read from the couch. His eyes continued to swivel around, finally landing on a clock next to the bed. Grimmjow’s eyes widened. It was 2:15. Fucking PM. Well fuck. He wasn’t gonna be going to class then. 

 

The initial shock faded away. That explained why he felt so damn well rested. No need to jump out of bed at this point, he might as well make the most of the impromptu day off. Like a cat, he stretched on the couch, rolling onto his hands and knees and arching his back.

 

Grimmjow played with the idea of falling back asleep. The room was the perfect temperature, which was basically unheard of, considering in his own dorm you had to choose between whatever the temperature was outside or boiling hot no matter what setting was on the heater. The blanket smelled nice and clean, like detergent. Kurosaki’s detergent. The place was a veritable hotel room, honestly. One needling thought danced at the back of his mind. He could really use a shower. 

 

After about 20 minutes of drifting in and out of sleep, that thought got the best of him. Besides, he had no idea when the room’s rightful resident would get back, and it would be pretty nice to avoid the whole awkward morning-after talk. To be fair, Kurosaki had been pretty damn decent, and all things considered, his night could have been really awful. Reluctantly, Grimmjow pulled himself off the couch and folded up the blanket. He wandered over to the door to inspect the note: ‘Gone to class, didn’t want to wake you. Make sure the door locks behind you.” Not necessarily a dismissal, but not an invitation to stay. Not that he wanted to.

 

He grabbed his jacket off the desk chair where it had been offhandedly thrown the night before, and glanced around, back at the photos. Some of the guys on the soccer poster looked familiar, too. Abarai’s housemates, he realized. Damn, he wished he had his phone to take a picture of Baby Kurosaki. Would have been great blackmail material. Well, no reason to stick around. As he shrugged on his coat, something caught his eye. 

 

A black ribbon dangled over the side of the desk, attached to the corner of something rigid lying underneath a stack of precariously perched papers. Whatever it was made the pile of notes buckle and fold unevenly, which looked weird, considering everything else was so organized. Almost like... almost like this thing was stashed away in a poor attempt to hide it. 

 

Carefully, trying not to disturb the heap of documents that served as camouflage, Grimmjow pulled on the ribbon. Realization dawned, sharp and painful. It was a mask. A black cat masquerade mask with painted white whiskers that Grimmjow was intimately acquainted with. A mask that Grimmjow had thought about almost non-stop all weekend. 

 

Shoving it roughly back under the papers, Grimmjow did something he had never done before. He ran away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick one coming at you cause it was basically already written from before. Bloop.
> 
> Thank you so much for all of you who comment and kudos, it really makes my day, honestly. <3


	9. Chapter 9

It had been three excruciating days since Grimmjow had realized the true identity of the cat at the party. For each of those hours, Grimmjow had been replaying that night and all of their interactions over and over again. He agonized over how was it that he had been recognized. Was that why Kurosaki had ran away so suddenly? Perhaps he hadn’t been recognized at all, actually, and Kurosaki had just needed to leave for a different reason. Or maybe Kurosaki _did_ know, had hidden his mask clumsily under papers. Or probably, the mask was hidden under there for no reason, and Grimmjow had ruined his own peace of mind by snooping through his stuff, and no one knew anything. Except Grimmjow. He knew. And knowing was driving him crazy.

 

Grimmjow couldn’t even bring himself to go to kickboxing the next day; the revelation was still so fresh on Tuesday afternoon, there was no way he’d be able to look Kurosaki in the eye and fight him. He’d only had a few hours to process it, after all. By the time Friday arrived it was clear that even a few days wasn’t enough processing time. He felt nervous to go to class, even considered skipping, though that would just be running away and Grimmjow was _not_ going to do that. There was nothing to be afraid of, anyway, not like he was going to bring it up. What was there even to say? _Hey, we groped each other at Halloween, and I can’t stop thinking about it. How about you?_

 

Still though, there had to be some way to broach the subject. After his week of internal warring, he finally decided that it was obvious that Kurosaki knew. And if Kurosaki knew and didn’t bring it up, then he definitely didn’t want to talk about it. Why else would he hide the mask? It was hidden so poorly. Everything in his room had been so tidy and specific, that hiding the mask _must_ have been on purpose, however hastily it was done. The question now was if Ichigo knew that _he_ knew? Grimmjow had been running circles in his mind thinking about it.

 

Even if they managed to talk about it, what then? Ignore years of animosity for what was probably just one night of mutual horniness? It didn’t change the fact that Kurosaki definitely hated his guts. And Grimmjow hated Kurosaki’s. Mostly.

 

Kurosaki had beaten him to class, like he did every day, the fucking nerd. Grimmjow couldn’t understand why he was always early to a class like this. It wasn’t like Urahara even cared about their attendance or tardiness. Today, though, something seemed off about him. He had dark rings under his eyes, and the side of his face was pressed against the counter, looking clammy and pale.

 

“You look awful,” Grimmjow blurted before he could stop himself. God, a week of thinking about this guy and that was the first thing out of his mouth.

 

“Thanks,” was the only reply he got. No snarky quip, no flash of stubborn irritation in his eyes. Something must really be wrong.

 

“I mean it, you look really bad.” A tinge of concern slipped into Grimmjow’s voice.

 

“Aww, going soft on me? You’re actually worried?”

 

Well, at least he could still be snarky. But still. This kid looked fucking sick. His words might have actually stung if it weren’t for a lung rattling cough that shook through his slender body as he hacked into his tee shirt, the collar pulled over his mouth.

 

“You shouldn’t be in class if you’re sick. Especially not a food class, you fucking idiot.”

 

“It’s not that bad,” Kurosaki coughed again, despite his words, earning him a glare from Grimmjow. “Plus I have a class after this that I can’t miss so I might as well go to all my classes.”

 

“That’s not how it works. You’re going to get everyone else sick. I’m not going to eat any shit you touch.”

 

“Okay, _mom,_ I think I can take care of myself.” His orange hair fell into his eyes. It was so long, Grimmjow noticed, the color almost garrish, clashing horribly with how pale he was now.

 

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Grimmjow grit out. “I’m gonna have to sanitize this whole counter a thousand times ‘cause of you.”

 

Kurosaki’s retort was cut off by Abarai’s arrival. Grimmjow never thought he’d actually be happy to see the muscle-bound jock, but when he came over and clapped his friend on the shoulder, Grimmjow realized there was probably no one else he’d rather see.

 

“Dude, you look pretty rough,” he said, holding Kurosaki’s shoulder at arm’s length. “You feeling alright?”

 

“Yes, as I was just telling Grimmjow here, I’m actually in the peak of my life.” Sarcasm dripped off his tongue, but Kurosaki wasn’t backing down.

 

“I’d say you’re hungover but you didn’t come out with us last night, so that’s probably not the case,” Abarai replied amiably. He was trying to keep it light, reading the situation like only a best friend could. Grimmjow watched almost in awe how easy it was for him to wear down the rough edges of Kurosaki’s attitude. All he’d ever been able to do was rile him up.

 

“I’m fine,” Kurosaki maintained, only to be bent over by another coughing fit. He stood up straight afterwards, looking as obstinate as ever though significantly less combative than he had looked while talking to just Grimmjow. If only Grimmjow felt the same way. Watching him cough set him off again.

 

“That’s it, Kurosaki, I’m gonna fucking carry you out of here,” Grimmjow started, taking a step forward.

 

Abarai’s arm shot out in front of Grimmjow, stopping him with surprising ease, though it just made him want to break the offending limb off.

 

Calmly, Abarai spoke in a measured tone, “Ichigo, don’t make me do this.”

 

“Do what? _You’re_ gonna carry me?” Ichigo said mockingly.

 

“No, I’m gonna tell on you.”

 

“Tell who?” he scoffed. “Rukia? _My dad?_ I’m not a child.”

 

“Nope, not them.” Abarai shook his head. “Someone worse.”

 

“Yuzu might act like a mom, but she isn’t gonna be able to do anything.”

 

“Please don’t make me bring him into this, he’s only in town for a short while and you know how he gets, especially about people’s health.”

 

Kurosaki blanched, impossibly paler than before. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“I would,” he replied, pulling out his phone. “I’m texting him right now.”

 

“Please don’t!”

 

Grimmjow watched mystified as the orange haired object of his obsession scrambled, trying to pull Abarai’s phone out of his hand. The taller man just held it out of reach, a small smile on his lips.

 

“Please, Renji, I’ll never hear the end of it,” Kurosaki pleaded.

 

“Alright, well then maybe you should go home and actually sleep,” Abarai chided.

 

“Fine.” Kurosaki said, defeated. “I can’t believe you’d do this, though.” He shot a look at Grimmjow. A scowling one.

 

Without so much as a goodbye, he grabbed his bag and left the room, the door shutting loudly behind him.

 

Grimmjow was stunned. He turned to Abarai, who looked triumphant, waiting for an explanation. “What was that?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” the redhead shrugged, sitting down at his counter.

 

“Who are you talking about?” Grimmjow pressed. Who on earth could have an effect like that on someone as stubborn as Kurosaki?

 

“I’ll let Ichigo tell you if you really want to know.” Abarai said. “He is so easy to play sometimes, but I’m sure you know that, what with the way you always get under his skin.”

 

“It’s mutual,” Grimmjow growled.

 

Abarai laughed heartily, taking his seat on the stool. “All it takes is having someone who doesn’t put up with his shit getting involved. That’s probably why he gets so worked up around you, though you’d probably have better luck if you weren’t so distant with him. You could start by using his first name, it’s not 1950.”

 

His girlfriend walked in the door at that moment. Any chance of a Q&A session Grimmjow might have had now vanished. Though, Grimmjow supposed, it was nice to realize that Abarai was a wealth of Kurosaki related information. He’d have to try to exploit that.

 

From there, class dragged on. In addition to everything else he had going on, the gnawing question of this mysterious person plagued him. By the end of it, Grimmjow walked out of the classroom with a large Tupperware of soup and about a billion unanswered questions. It had turned out pretty well, the soup. And it was actually easier doing it alone, since usually half the class was spent bickering. Still though, it was weird. For one, now he had all these freaking leftovers. And besides that, he couldn’t get the image of how miserably sick Kurosaki, er, Ichigo, looked out of his head.

 

It was stupid really. That dumbass really thought he was doing everyone a favor by sacrificing himself to be in class. What kind of fucked, self important mentality was that? Even if this class was a walk in the park, surely his next professor would have understood that he was in no position to leave his bed, much less give any sort of presentation.

 

Grimmjow turned the corner to see the very source of his frustration sitting on a bench outside the English building. He looked even worse than before, as if that was possible.

 

“Are you fucking serious, Kurosaki? Even after Abarai sends you home, you’re just going to sit here?”

 

“I am serious. I can’t miss this next class.” His expression was as serious as he said, but his eyes were completely empty, like he was on autopilot. It was worse than seeing a kicked puppy.

 

“Okay, where’s this class? Who’s your professor?”

 

Ichigo eyed him warily, before finally replying. “Professor Ukitake. It’s in room 102 of this building. I’m just waiting for a minute before going in,” he ended with a cough and a defiant sniffle.

 

“Nope, let’s go right now,” Grimmjow almost growled. He picked Kurosaki off the bench by the arm and dragged him stumbling along behind him. If Ichigo had been any healthier, Grimmjow suspected he might have put up a fight, but at this point, he just let himself be pulled like ragdoll into the building.

 

Grimmjow knew Professor Ukitake, and more importantly, he knew where his office was. He steered his partner roughly past the intended classroom and down to the end of the hall where a handful of offices occupied the corners of the building. He rapped on the door to the far left, which was marked with the professor’s name on a bronze placard. The door opened abruptly. The professor, textbooks in hand, was clearly about to head to class.

 

“Oh hello, what can I do for you Mr. Jaegerjaquez? It’s been some time since you’ve been in my classes.” Professor Ukitake was rather tall and willowy, with long white hair. He also coached the women’s club rugby team, which earned him a reputation for being a hard ass, despite how, soft spoken, and kind, and rather frail he was. His office hours were honestly the only reason Grimmjow had managed to pass an English course, though, and that had made him respect the professor immensely.

 

Grimmjow stepped to the side, showing off Ichigo in all his sweaty, feverish glory.

 

“Hello, Mr. Kurosaki. You are not looking very excellent,” Ukitake said in a disarmingly earnest voice.

 

“I’m taking him home,” Grimmjow spoke up. “He said he couldn’t miss your class, but as you can see, he’s a disgusting mess.”

 

“Hey! I’m fine! I can do the pres-” but was cut off by his own coughing.

 

“I rest my case.” Grimmjow turned back to the professor.

 

“Mr. Kurosaki. Please return to your bed and rest assured that you will be able to do your presentation another day with no risk of losing any points. Between you students and my rowdy husband, I have a hard enough time staying healthy. I don’t need you adding any more germs into the mix. Just email me your slideshow and I’ll see you on Monday.”

 

Ichigo didn’t have a chance to reply before Grimmjow turned around and began ushering him out of the building.

 

“Thanks, Juushiro,” Grimmjow said with a wave over his shoulder.

 

“That’s still Professor Ukitake to you!” he called back, though it didn’t sound like the title was genuinely important to him.

 

Once outside the building, Grimmjow turned to face the feverish boy.

 

“Okay, you fuckin’ invalid, I’m serious about taking you home. I know where you live and I’ll follow through on carrying you.” Grimmjow didn’t realize he’d still been leading Kurosaki around, until his hand was roughly pushed away.

 

“I don’t need you to walk me home.”

 

“Apparently you do, because last time you were told to go back to bed, you did what? Sat outside this building for two hours? Threw up in the bushes?”

 

Ichigo had no response. Instead he glared at the ground.

 

“That’s what I thought. You can barely walk straight. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“I. I don’t.” Grimmjow stuttered just a moment but finished confidently. “Let’s go.”

 

Kurosaki looked like he wanted to make some sort of retort, but instead started walking towards the residential area of campus.

 

They walked together in silence. Kurosaki shuffled along slowly, the aggressive pace he’d initially set had slowed down, irritating Grimmjow immensely. Just when Grimmjow thought he would snap, Ichigo spoke up.

 

“You don’t have to follow me up. I’ve got it from here.”

 

“Do you?” It came out harsher than Grimmjow intended.

 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I really don’t need your help.”

 

“You can’t even make it into your building, you honestl...”

 

Grimmjow was cut off with a look from the other boy. Even through the sickness, Ichigo’s stubborn streak shown through. He wanted to say something else, something that would force Ichigo to accept his help, but feeling of another person standing too close caught his attention.

 

“Is there a problem here?” an icy voice spoke. A short guy with glasses, black hair, and a scowl that could compete with Kurosaki’s glared at Grimmjow.

 

“It’s fine, Uryuu,” Ichigo spoke. “Grimmjow was just walking me home.”

 

Uryuu. Grimmjow had never heard the name before. He wasn’t one of Kurosaki’s usual friends.

 

“I see. You look terrible,” the guy spoke.

 

“Thanks, that feels really good coming from you.”

 

“Well, good, my opinion is very important, especially when it comes to your health.” The fucker sounded so aloof and condescending. Grimmjow couldn’t stand it.

 

“I suppose,” Kurosaki didn’t argue.

 

“Renji told me to look for you. He didn’t tell me why, but it feels very obvious now looking at you.”

 

“He did?” Ichigo whined. “Fuck. I told him not to.”

 

Was this- was this the guy? The guy that Kurosaki didn’t want to have know that he was sick?

 

“Well I’m glad he did. You’re a mess, clearly you need someone to take care of you.” His voice was still aloof, but whoever this guy was, he seemed to care about Ichigo and meant something to him.

 

Grimmjow watched, an unwitting onlooker as Kurosaki was inspected by this stranger. The dark haired man gently took Ichigo’s face in one hand and softly brushed the orange locks away from his sweaty forehead, letting the back of his hand sit there as if feeling for a fever. After a moment he let his hands fall down to cup Ichigo’s face, sliding down under his jaw as two fingers prodded lightly at the tender skin of his neck. From there, they fell to his shoulders, where they rested for only a moment until they continued down his arms and finished with giving his hands a light squeeze. The display was uncomfortably intimate, Grimmjow thought, a little too familiar to be just a friend.

 

The glasses wearing, wannabe nurse turned back to look at Grimmjow after completely ignoring his presence for the past minute.  “I’ve got it from here, uh-“

 

“Grimmjow.”

 

“Right. I’ll take care of him. Thanks.” Uryuu dismissed him with a wave of his hand, sounding completely ungrateful. He wrapped an arm around Ichigo and started to pull him away.

 

Kurosaki still stared at Grimmjow, eyes a little less dead inside. They flicked from the ground ever so slightly up Grimmjow’s body as unspoken words piled up between them.

 

“Fine. Just don’t let me see you walking around campus again today. Have all this soup I made, no help from you.” Grimmjow shoved the container into Kurosaki’s chest and turned to walk back towards the academic buildings, but a soft voice caught his ears.

 

“Thanks.”

 

He turned back around, to see Ichigo was already walking away, Uryuu’s arm slung around his shoulders, leading the sick boy back into the dorm.

 

Well. That was that. Can’t help someone that doesn’t want it right? Something twinged inside him though. He wanted to be the one to make sure Ichigo got into bed, ate soup, and fell asleep. He wanted to go back into the warm, tidy room and lay on the couch listening to Ichigo’s sleeping. But he’d never been one to go where he wasn’t wanted, so he walked back to the studio, completely unready for another weekend of overthinking.

 

***

 

For the first time in recorded history, Kurosaki was running late. He was never late. Not once this semester. It had been annoying at the beginning of the semester that Grimmjow was never the first one to class, but now it that he was, it rang alarm bells in his head. Then again, maybe the guy was still sick? It seemed unlikely, he’d had a whole weekend. Plus, given how hard it had been to get him to go home on Friday, there’s no way he would have stayed home even if he was still under the weather.

 

Class had technically started. Kisuke was handing out the recipes for the day and everyone in the class was still chatting. Grimmjow considered interrupting what was probably some lovers spat between the couple in front of him. Surely they’d know where Kurosaki was, and if they didn’t, why weren’t they more concerned?

 

He didn’t have to. Ichigo came bursting through the door, looking a little frazzled but otherwise healthy. What stood out most, though, was the fact that Ichigo had cut his hair. The shaggy, spiky mess on his head had been trimmed back. The sides were shaved short, leaving a fluffy mop on the top. Most of the class seemed not to acknowledge his arrival, save for a nod from the professor and a wave from the couple, who paused their argument for two seconds to do so. Orihime, the only one with no social awareness it seemed, peeled herself away from fawning over Ulquiorra to greet Ichigo.

 

“I like your haircut!” she called out.

 

“Thanks,” Ichigo said, at a normal speaking level, brushing his hair back out of his eyes as he settled in at the counter next to Grimmjow.

 

It was a good haircut. It was a really good haircut, Grimmjow thought. It made him look older, more polished and professional. It was still long enough on top that it flopped in front of his eyes a bit, maintaining a certain playfulness. Grimmjow’s neck burned to even acknowledge it.

 

“You’re late. I thought I was going to have to cook alone again,” he said, forcing himself to look away from the head of orange hair.

 

“Oh yeah, I was up late with a friend and we accidentally overslept,” Ichigo said casually, scratching the back of his head.

 

“So I trust you’re not sick anymore then?” Grimmjow asked tentatively. He didn’t like the sound of ‘we’ but decided not to dwell on it.

 

“Oh yeah, I’m totally fine. Uryuu is a thorough nurse. He’s in medical school, actually.” Ichigo started to look at the recipe that Grimmjow hadn’t yet touched. “But, uh, thanks. Uh, I mean for Friday.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Grimmjow started, but he was cut off.  

 

“No, I mean it. I really needed to take the day, and I’m glad you forced me to. I don’t think anyone else would have been able to get me to see reason. Well, except Uryuu, I guess. But I mean the part about walking me home from Ukitake’s class. I was in no shape to do a presentation.”

 

He couldn’t look Ichigo in the eyes. A distraction came in the form of the classroom door opening again.

 

Speak of the devil. Who but fucking Uryuu poked his head into the room. He immediately locked eyes with Ichigo, and sauntered over to him, seemingly unfazed by interrupting another class.

 

“You forgot this,” he said, pulling a text book out of his bag and placing it on the counter. “Isn’t this for your next class?”

 

“Oh, thanks, I completely forgot,” Ichigo said, grabbing at the book.

 

The commotion was enough to earn Urahara’s attention, and the weird, shaggy haired blonde man sauntered over to Grimmjow and Ichigo’s counter.

 

“Ah, Ishida, it’s been too long. How’s medical school treating you?”

 

“Fine,” the younger man brushed off. “We have an autumn break this week. I came down last Friday.”

 

“Are you in town to visit Mr. Kurosaki here? Staying with him in the dorms?”

 

“Obviously. I’m not going to stay in Abarai’s hovel,” Uryuu said, scrunching up his nose. Renji’s protests went unnoticed.

 

“He’s just dropping off my text book, sorry for the distraction.”

 

“No, no, my dear Ichigo, I know better than anyone that Ishida here is your dear friend, it’s no distraction. Are you going to visit Isshin while you’re in town?”

 

“Better than visiting my own father I suppose.”

 

“Marginally,” Ichigo laughed, a clear sound that Grimmjow envied suddenly.

 

“Anyway, as fun as last night was, I’m picking tonight.”

 

Ichigo began to protest but Uryuu cut him off again.

 

“I come all the way out here to visit you, Ichigo, I’m the guest. Giving you a haircut isn’t my idea of fun, no matter how good a job I’ve done at making you look presentable.”

 

Grimmjow’s ears were burning. If Ichigo had replied to this guy, Grimmjow didn’t hear it over the blood pumping loudly in his ears. Instead, he watched, unable to look away as the this scrawny, infuriating man fluffed the bright hair, Ichigo swiping madly at his hands trying to push them away.

 

“I’m leaving,” Ishida announced. “I’ll be in your room ‘til we meet for lunch.” He left as quickly as he came, goodbyes from Urahara and Ichigo’s friends following him out the door.

 

“Well that was a lot,” Grimmjow said tersely after several moments.

 

“Oh, Uryuu? Yeah, he’s a bit of an acquired taste. Once you get to know him though it’s pretty endearing.” Ichigo said, his tone light.  Either he didn’t notice Grimmjow’s twitching eyebrow, or thought it better to not say anything.

 

Something heavy and hot, like liquid iron, started boiling in Grimmjow’s stomach. He thought about the time that he had studied with Ichigo for the midterm. The way the two of them had sat on the back porch- in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but feel like he had missed an opportunity.

 

“Anyway, you want to jump in on this recipe? Lemon chicken seems pretty easy, I don’t know why Kisuke is having us do this.”

 

Class passed quickly after that intrusion. With gritted teeth, Grimmjow held back ugly words whenever his partner messed up, or when Renji and Rukia butted in with comments or remarks about their plans with _Uryuu_ for the week.

 

His reaction through the class was something he wasn’t fully comfortable with. He didn’t have a word for it, really. It was burning and angry, like an upset stomach full of bile. It made his muscles tense. He didn’t know why, but he hated this Uryuu. He hated the way Kurosaki said his name and he hated how all of Kurosaki’s friends seemed to love him.

 

Grimmjow left quickly after class ended. Eager to escape, eager to be literally anywhere else. He was more than happy to run into Nel in the studio, at least she could talk his ear off to keep him from his own thoughts. When after a while she asked him to go get food with her, he readily accepted, glad that he didn’t have to make a decision for himself. Little did he know that this decision would lead him right back to Kurosaki.

 

“Who does that guy think he is anyway?” Grimmjow groused.

 

“Who? The glasses guy?” Nel asked innocently, munching on her lunch.

 

Grimmjow had been glaring across the cafeteria at Ichigo and his friends. The table they sat at was full, even Ulquiorra and Orihime were sitting there, but when Grimmjow had seen Ichigo with his probably boyfriend, and god how that thought made him want to retch, he’d grabbed Nel by the wrist and pulled her along to another table on the opposite side of the room before they could be spotted.

 

“Yeah. Him. Do you think that’s Kurosaki’s boyfriend?”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“I don’t!” Grimmjow spat out. “I just think he’s a fucking prick.” He busied him self with stabbing at the salad in front of him.

 

Nel kept eating, ignoring Grimmjow’s outburst. He continued on anyway.

 

“It seems like all couples anyway. Abarai and Kuchiki, Ulqui and his princess-

 

“That sounds like definitive proof that they’re dating. Good detective work, Grimmy,” Nel said, smirking and pointing at him patronizingly with a French fry. “Let’s go over there, and then _we’ll_ be like a couple too.

 

“I’ve just never seen him date anyone. That’s all.” Grimmjow wouldn’t even dignify answering the couple joke. There was no way that was going to happen.

 

“How do you even know he’s gay?”

 

Grimmjow stiffened, crushing the plastic water bottle in his hand. “Gaydar,” he said without a trace of humor.

 

“Easy to spot a fellow gay then, huh? Well, bi maybe, if he’s like us-“ Nel mused, trailing off.

 

Grimmjow’s reply was an unintelligible grumble and a grimace. He’d yet to tell Nel anything about Halloween and at this point he didn’t want to. What was more interesting was that Ichigo has gotten up and was headed to the bathroom- without his boy toy, Grimmjow was relieved to see- so he dismissed himself gruffly to Nel, only to take off after the orange head that bobbed through the crowd.

 

He made it to the restroom just in time to see Ichigo washing his hands.

 

“Fancy meeting you here, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow grated out. He knew he was off to a bad start, his temper flaring, but it was too late to stop.

 

“I guess. It’s a public toilet so I don’t see what’s so fancy about it, but everyone has their own tastes,” Ichigo replied. He had barely spared a glance at Grimmjow before looking back down at his hands.

 

It only made Grimmjow bristle more. _Pay attention to me!_ he wanted to scream. “What do you know about my tastes?”

 

“Enough,” Ichigo smiled, actually looking right into Grimmjow’s eyes. God, his eyes. He hated how they crinkled right now.

 

 _He’s making fun of you,_ his subconscious yelled. _He knows you know about the mask and he’s making a joke of you._

 

“You came here alone,” Grimmjow said, barely holding back whatever was fighting in his chest to get out.

 

“Yes, well, I didn’t think I needed an audience for this sort of thing,” Ichigo laughed, those damned eyes twinkling. “I like to be alone in the bathroom, contrary to popular belief. Some people don’t seem to get the message though.”

 

Nothing could have been a more obvious jab. What a fucking low blow. What Kurosaki lacked in actual fighting skills, he more than made up with words that felt more crushing than any physical attack. As if Grimmjow could forget being in that basement hallway with him. As if he hadn’t been playing it over and over in his head.

 

Bold of Kurosaki to make a joke about it, going around making out with people at parties even though he had some long distance thing. There was only one thing Grimmjow knew how to do. Lash out fiercely, holding nothing back. He wouldn’t back down or run away again, and if he couldn’t do it with his fists, he’d play Kurosaki’s word game.

 

“Didn’t want to bring your _boyfriend_ down here to hold your dick for you?”

 

“Who?” He looked genuinely confused.

 

“You know. _Uryuu._ ” Grimmjow let the words fall out of his mouth like poison, and immediately wanted to take them back. The look he received in return was a mixture of hurt and disappointment.

 

“Uryuu is my cousin,” Ichigo said dumbly. “Why, what did you- what made you think that?”

 

His cousin. God, his cousin, oh my god. Grimmjow was an idiot.

 

“I just, er, thought you guys were close.” Grimmjow said, trying to hide the shock on his face.

 

“Yeah, we are. We irritate the crap out of each other but we’re close. Closer after my mom died, ironically enough.”

 

“Oh. Gotcha.” Grimmjow didn’t know where to go with that. His anger had dissipated but now he was stuck, his feet frozen to the ground.

 

“Well. Now you know, I guess.” Ichigo said, his face scrunched up again.

 

“Doesn’t really change my day to day, Kurosaki, but thanks for the update.”

 

“You’re the one who- god, I don’t have to do this, actually,” Ichigo said, and he pushed past Grimmjow, not avoiding smacking into the broad shoulders that blocked the way.

 

The door closed behind him, the heavy noise of it echoing around the tiled room, leaving Grimmjow rooted to the spot. Fuck. He just kept messing up.

 

Instinct, maybe his fighting instinct, took over. He barreled through the door and locked on to Kurosaki’s rapidly disappearing figure.

 

“ICHIGOO!”

 

He yelled out down the hallway, turning a few heads, but most importantly, stopping Ichigo in his tracks. He turned to face Grimmjow, his body rigid, on edge like he always was before they fought.

 

“What?” The exasperation on his face was visible even at a distance.

 

“I know.” It was the only thing Grimmjow could manage to say. He called it out, probably only just loud enough to make the 30 or so feet away that Ichigo stood.

 

It could have been only them in that hallway. They stood looking at each other as the silence between them turned into a ringing in Grimmjow’s ears. It grew louder and louder, and if anyone else heard it, they didn’t react. It only broke when Ichigo’s mouth opened.

 

“Me too.”

 

He turned back around, putting even more distance between them, and walked out of sight. The hallway returned to normal, other students going about their day, completely unaware that Grimmjow’s world had cracked open like an egg.

 

No more what if’s to hide behind. The truth of the situation was out in the open, and apparently Ichigo didn’t care. Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Grimmichi Day!


	10. Chapter 10

“As much as I hate to say it, I need gay advice.”

 

“And you’ve come to the master. How wise of you.”

 

Yumichika steepled his fingers together, his arms propped up on a table between them. He and Ichigo were sequestered away in a corner of the Seireitei, and Ichigo, who was off the clock, was sweating nervously. 

 

“I think I fucked up,” Ichigo started. He slowly took a sip of the hot coffee in front of him.

 

“In any particular way, or just like, that overwhelming existential dread of realizing you’re a literature major?” Yumichika smiled slyly.

 

“Fuck, shut up okay, I’m being serious.”

 

Yumichika’s smile faltered a little bit, “I’m joking, you know, how we do as friends? But since you’ve come to me in your hour of need, I forgive you for swearing at me. Please, Ichigo, lay your burdens at my feet.” 

 

Ichigo was regretting coming to Yumi about this. But it couldn’t be helped; this had been eating him up for 24 hours and he had to tell someone. “Do you remember Halloween?”

 

“I wasn’t completely blacked out for it, so I’m gonna say yes.”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Remember the pirate?”

 

“How could I forget? No amount of alcohol could erase the memory of those arms. Did you figure out who it was? Let me guess, you’ve gone around measuring biceps like a gay Cinderella. Please tell me you started with the swim team. Wait, no, back up, missed opportunity. Cinder _ fella. _ ”

 

“That’s not original at all.”

 

“Yes, but it is funny.”

 

“Okay, you know what, I’m not going to tell you.”

 

Yumichika’s face crumpled into a pout. “Wait noooooo. Please, I promise I will be a good friend now.”

 

With an exasperated exhale, Ichigo continued his story. “I did figure out who it was. In fact, I had it figured out before I even left the party.”

 

“You’ve been holding out on me! It’s been like, two weeks!”

 

“And for good reason. The guy is-” and Ichigo looked around the shop to make sure no one was eavesdropping, “Grimmjow.”

 

Yumichika’s face dropped, his mouth hanging open. “No way.” It was unusual to see him with nothing to say. 

 

“You can’t tell anyone. Only Renji knows.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m serious. Although, I have to say I’m hurt you went to Renji first.”

 

“He cornered me in the bathroom at the diner when it happened. Besides, he doesn’t know what I’m about to tell you, at least. He’s been so busy with soccer and class and Rukia, I didn’t want to bother him, Plus he’s straight, so, I mean, his help is great but, well. Anyway, here’s where I fucked up-”

 

“As if the first part wasn’t already bad-”

 

“That was an honest mistake! This part is, well, okay so, he came and slept in my room ‘cause it was raining, you know? And I think he found the cat mask, and then, well, I got sick and he met Uryuu, and I guess he thought that Uryuu was my boyfriend, ‘cause he confronted me in the bathroom about it, and basically he told me that he knew that I knew about Halloween and so we both know that we were like, 10 minutes away from boning and it was awkward and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

 

They sat in silence for just a moment, until Yumichika shook his head. 

 

“God, Ichigo, you really are horrible at telling stories. We actually should rethink this literature major. I need you to back way up! He  _ slept  _ in your  _ room! _ You can’t just gloss over that! Build some dramatic tension, will you?”

 

Ichigo sighed and began carefully retelling each and every interaction he’d had with his once rival since the party. Yumichika listened diligently, his expression reacting at different parts but never interrupting. It felt good to get it all off his chest. By the time he finished, ending with how he’d left Grimmjow in the hallway yesterday afternoon, he felt about ten pounds lighter. It was so relieving to tell someone else his problems, even if it was just some of them. A reminder to himself that he didn’t have to shoulder the burden all the time. 

 

“Okay,” Yumichika began, so nonchalant even though Ichigo still cringed inwardly at opening himself up like that. “You’re gonna hate this advice.”

 

“Good opener, I feel very receptive to what you’re about to say.”

 

“Great. The way I see it, he has some sort of unresolved feelings towards you.” Ichigo blanched and opened his mouth, but Yumichika cut him off.

 

“Let me finish, I’m not saying it’s romantic, but I’m not _ not  _ saying that. I’m saying that you guys only just got on speaking terms. I wouldn’t even call you friends, and now you’ve forced him to see you in a new light, and he isn’t ready for that yet. It sounds to me like he was jealous in some way of Uryuu so there’s definitely something to unpack there.”

 

“Okay, so what am I supposed to do about it.”

 

“Well, you could do nothing, let him figure it out on his own, or you could talk to him about it, say, ‘Hey that was weird, we cool?’ But, and this is my favorite option, I think you guys should hook up and let hormones sort it for you.”

 

“Yumi, you were giving such good advice until the end there.”

 

“I was, wasn’t I?” he giggled. “In seriousness though, the real question is what do you think about all this? I mean, you’ve told me objective facts of what’s happened, but nothing about how you feel about all of it.”

 

That made Ichigo pause. How did he feel about it? “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought that Grimmjow was hot outside the influence of alcohol-”

 

“I agree that he is very hot, we’ve discussed it once or twice.”

 

“And a hate-fuck has been recommended to me on a number of occasions-”

 

“Yes, and I simply must thank Rukia for backing me up on that one-”

 

“But, I really don’t know if we’re compatible outside of that,” Ichigo finished despite being cut off multiple times. 

 

“Okay. So don’t date him. And don’t hook up with him. It’s perfectly reasonable to talk to him the next time you see each other and be like, this has been awkward, I hope we can be regular towards each other moving forward. And, honestly, I bet that’s all he wants to do, too.”

 

“Hmm. Okay. You’re right.” Ichigo sighed.

 

“As always,” Yumichika said, looking pleased with himself as he leaned back against the couch. They sat there quietly, ambient noise from the shop filling their silence. 

 

Ichigo tapped on his mug anxiously, speaking up while simultaneously trying to hold himself back. 

 

“What if, uh, I was wondering though, would it be bad if I actually liked him? Like, a little bit?”

 

Yumichika smirked, his eyes crinkling and giving way to a genuine smile. “Would that be so bad? I don’t think so.”

 

“I don’t know that I, you know,  _ like him  _ like him, but I think I might like him to like, a certain extent.”

 

“Well, don’t oversell it,” Yumichika snarked.

 

“I’m trying to be vulnerable! It’s hard! What do you want me to say?”

 

“Do you like him? Would you want to go on a date with him?”

 

“Yes!” Ichigo said, exasperated. “Fine, I do want that.”

 

“So then ask him on a date. I’m pretty sure you’ve got a good chance,” Yumichika said, and glanced at his phone. “Oh fuck,” he exclaimed rather suddenly, leaping up from the couch. “I’m gonna be late for soccer practice. Renji is gonna kill me and then Ikkaku is gonna make fun of my dead body.” 

 

“Is it that late?” Ichigo asked, looking at his phone and not waiting for an answer. “Damn, you’re right,” he said, packing his things and collecting their coffee cups. “I better get going too if I’m going to kickboxing. Having this afternoon class cancelled has really messed with my internal clock.”

 

The two left the shop together, both heading towards the athletic center to change in the locker rooms, speed walking all the way. 

 

“Do you think Grimmjow will be at class today? You said he skipped last week,” Yumichika asked as they entered the building. 

 

“Who knows. I’d be cool with it if he did skip ‘cause I’m not really ready to confront him about, uh, everything yet.”

 

“Hah, yeah. I guess it’s probably best to let it just rest a bit between you. It’s okay if you want to like, come to terms with your feelings first.” 

 

“I guess there’s always that.”

 

Yumichika began stripping basically right as they entered the locker room. He dressed quickly, faster than Ichigo had ever seen.

 

“Man, Renji must be running you guys hard if you’re so worried about being late,” Ichigo teased.

 

“Yeah, it’s more about not being willing to be on his shit list. He keeps track of everyone who’s late and at the end of the week the person with the most fuck ups has to get the first round of drinks when we go out. And a bitch has no money, sooo,” he trailed off, throwing up a peace sign. “Gotta bounce, have fun punching things!” Yumichika said throwing his bag into a locker. Ichigo had changed into athletic shorts but was still shirtless on the bench. He watched as Yumichika turned to leave the locker room, and instead barreled into who but Grimmjow. 

 

“Oop, my bad, sorry!” Yumichika said sweetly, as if he wasn’t creating the thickest tension in the world. “See you later, Ichigo!” he called out behind him as he dashed out the door. 

 

Ichigo and Grimmjow just stood looking at each other for a moment before Ichigo cracked a smile. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

 

Grimmjow looked at him, furrowing his brow. 

 

“In bathrooms, I mean,” Ichigo answered the unasked question with a light laugh. 

 

Grimmjow didn’t like that. His face contorted into a scowl, and he turned away from Ichigo, shoving things into a locker. “You think this is fucking funny, Kurosaki? I’m some joke to you?”

 

“What? No, Grimmjow I’m just making a joke- not that you’re the joke- I uh, I mean I just-“ Ichigo’s couldn’t help the nervous laughter that bubbled out of him. 

 

“You just what?” Grimmjow barked out. He had tugged his shirt off over his head and now was staring Ichigo down, waiting for an answer, but all Ichigo could do was rake his eyes over Grimmjow’s body and think of how his own shirtlessness made him feel suddenly vulnerable. 

 

“I just, uh,” Ichigo began, biting his lip anxiously. The tension in Grimmjow’s shoulders made the muscles stand out. “I just want to talk to you.”

 

Grimmjow scoffed, stood up straight and looked down on Ichigo with narrowing eyes. “You’re doing a pretty piss poor job of it then.” He turned back to the locker to pull out a worn work out shirt. 

 

“Well then, what’s your excuse, huh? You’re always ready to bite my fucking head off! Doesn’t even matter  _ what _ I say to you. Got a reason for having a huge stick up your ass?” Ichigo said, exasperated. 

 

That had been a mistake. Grimmjow turned back around from the locker, fury radiating off of him. 

 

“You’re my problem. It’s always been you,” he spat out through gritted teeth. “Fucking self righteous Kurosaki, puts Santa Maria to shame. Always have to be right, always knows everything, always just so fuckin’ nice. It pisses me off. And then, it’s just some big joke to you to mess with me the other week. Did you set it all up? How did you even know I was bi before, huh? Let me guess, your twinky friend that just left did all the dirty work? Did you run off and tell all your friends after the party? All laugh about how easy it was to wind me up? Laugh about how you left that mask out for me to find and-” 

 

“What are you talking about?” Ichigo cut him off. “I didn’t realize it was you until right at the end, and I, I mean I practically ran away ‘cause I was so embarrassed-”

 

“So I’m embarrassing? Is that what it is? Not high enough caliber for Saint Kurosaki?” Their volume was rising, voices amplified by the lockers and shower tile and echoing around the room, but Ichigo couldn’t stop himself from yelling back. 

 

“What? No! It’s just that we’re not exactly friends and I-“

 

“So then what are we?” Grimmjow retorted, hurt and anger evident in his face. He was panting slightly, trying to catch his breath from yelling. 

 

Ichigo paused, dumbstruck. “I don’t know, you tell me.” It came out level, more level than Ichigo felt as his heart pounded in his chest. “Seems like we only ever are what you want us to be.” 

 

Grimmjow just stared at him, a dumbstruck look on his face. “You think- you think I decide our relationship.” Not a hint of question was in his voice.

 

“You do, don’t you?” Ichigo shot back, ignoring the word ‘relationship’. “You decided when we fought, you decided when we stopped fighting. You decided when we would talk during class, you chose to switch to Tuesday kickboxing,  _ you _ came to my work drunk,  _ you _ forced me to go home to make yourself look like a good guy-”

 

“I was trying to  _ help  _ you!” Grimmjow yelled out. “You should have seen yourself! You make me so mad sometimes, fuck, Ichigo, I wanted to make sure you were okay!”

 

“Why!?” Ichigo yelled back. “Why do you even give a fuck? You  _ do  _ decide what we are, ‘cause on paper we aren’t even anything to each other, so why do you keep sticking yourself back in my life?”

 

“I care about you!”

 

Grimmjow’s declaration reverberated around the room. Ichigo could only stare back in shock. 

 

“I, I don’t know why,” Grimmjow continued, suddenly sheepish at his confession. “You just, you make me feel so much and I was so used to hiding it. Feelings, I mean. And what you have, I mean your siblings and your friends- I just. It’s magnetic. The way people are drawn to you. I guess that I am too.” He looked back up at Ichigo, looking truly exposed and unguarded for the first time. 

 

Ichigo’s head felt like it was buzzing. He could hear the words that Grimmjow was saying, but it was like hearing it through an old radio, each syllable crunchy and staticky. The static ran through his body, setting his hair on edge and making his heart skip, and even though he wanted to, Ichigo couldn’t accept it. 

 

“That can’t be right.”

 

“Why would I lie about this?” Grimmjow cried out, hurt growing in his eyes that Ichigo could see but do nothing about.

 

“I don’t know, I, I don’t understand.”

 

“Do you just hate me or-?” Grimmjow began, but he was cut off by the rapping of knuckles on the metal door.

 

“Hey Ichigo, if you’re in there, class is starting soon,” called Tatsuki’s cheery voice just outside the locker room.

 

Ichigo looked back at Grimmjow. His face, which had just been open and vulnerable, was now masked and unreadable. The same Grimmjow Ichigo had always known. 

 

“We’re gonna be late.” He turned away from Ichigo and went towards the line of stalls in the back part of the locker room. 

 

Ichigo took that as his cue to leave. He grabbed his water bottle and slammed his locker shut, letting his anger carry him to the classroom. 

 

Tatsuki was already warming up and waved brightly at Ichigo when he entered the room. Her face dropped when she saw the scowl on his face. 

 

“What happened to you? You look like someone kicked your dog.”

 

“Got in a fight with Grimmjow,” Ichigo answered. 

 

“Isn’t that the whole point of this class?” she laughed back. 

 

“I guess,” he shrugged. She wasn’t wrong, but today was different. 

 

Grimmjow entered the room, his face as unreadable as before. 

 

“Same pairs as always, guys!” Yoruichi called out. Of course. Ichigo could feel the resignation settle into his bones. There was only one way this was going to play out, and it was the way it had been from the beginning. Fists, no words. Intentions were always clear when they were fighting; it was the one language Ichigo knew he and Grimmjow both understood. 

 

There were no taunts coming from Grimmjow now. He picked their usual mat, the dark green one close to the corner and not too central. Good, familiar territory. Tatsuki and her regular partner were next to them, doing some light drills to start, but Ichigo knew that the second he and Grimmjow started, there would be no warm-ups. He’d be going all in right out the gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Yoruichi wander through the room, coaching people with less experience. He knew eventually she’d end up watching their match, like always, making an example of them for the other students if they wanted to watch while simultaneously keeping Ichigo and Grimmjow in check. Well, she was going to have a hell of a job of that today. 

 

“You want to start this, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow grumbled, low and menacing, from across the mat. His hands were wrapped, and he pulled on his gloves. 

 

“Whoever starts really would be the one who decides our relationship,” Ichigo said while he tightened his own gloves, more to himself than anything but aloud nonetheless. 

 

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed on Ichigo, who was biting down on his mouthguard and sinking into a defensive position. 

 

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, inserting his own mouthguard. He flicked his eyes over Ichigo and with no other warning, threw himself into the fight. 

 

As immediate as it was, Ichigo blocked Grimmjow’s first flurry of attacks. It was quick, each blow hard and fast but Ichigo was expecting it. He launched back with ferocity, aiming his punches with precision and landing quite a few of them. Grimmjow’s mask didn’t crack, his face stony as ever while Ichigo barraged him with punch after punch. 

 

Ichigo wanted nothing, only to pull some reaction out of him.  _ Show me that you’re angry, show me that you love fighting, show me that you’re hurt, show me anything at all, _ he thought. If he could get something out of Grimmjow, at least he would know where they stood. 

 

But Grimmjow was just as unrelenting as he was. Neither of them was willing to lose this fight. Losing would mean that the fight was over, and if the fight was over, then they’d have to acknowledge what was said in the locker room.

 

The exchanges were getting harder and faster, and Ichigo’s lungs were barely keeping up. Every now and then he would land a solid kick to the torso, but in retaliation, Grimmjow would get him back just as hard, each strike pledging to leave a bruise behind. A few times, Ichigo could swear he felt his ribs creaking, but from the looks of it, Grimmjow was feeling just as bad. 

 

At some point, Ichigo became aware of Yoruichi hovering around them. Occasionally she would shout out reminders for them. 

 

_ Keep it cool, guys.  _

 

_ Dial it back.  _

 

_ Go easier, boys. _

 

_ Stop rushing.  _

 

They all felt like commands on opposite day, spurring the pair on to fight harder, each punch more punishing than the last. Whether or not Yoruichi knew that her words fell on deaf ears, Ichigo couldn’t say. All he could do was stare at Grimmjow, tunnel vision fixating on the blur of hands that constantly moved in front of him. 

 

The momentum changed when Ichigo spent too long looking at Grimmjow’s face. He was hoping to find a glimmer of intention behind his opponent’s bright, daring eyes, something that would give him an advantage and push the fight in his favor. Instead, it felt like by the time he had looked away, he couldn’t keep up with the action. It was as if the frame rate of a show had changed. The movements of his adversary were disjointed. Each picture was crystal clear, but the transition from scene to scene didn’t flow anymore and Ichigo couldn’t track what was happening.

 

The moment Grimmjow’s heel connected with his jaw, Ichigo knew something was wrong. A sharp pain exploded in his mouth and when he bit down harder on his mouth guard in surprise, it only doubled. In the back of his throat, he could feel something trickling, a feeling that wasn’t just saliva and tasted sweet and metallic at the same time. 

 

Without lowering his guard to the opponent in front of him, who’s eyes still blazed fiercely despite a reprimand from Yoruichi, “No headshots,” Ichigo faintly registered. He spat out his mouth guard, and with it came a puddle of blood and his top right canine.

 

“Okay, TIME OUT!” Yoruichi yelled out, stepping in between Ichigo and his target in a flash, authority rigid and indisputable in every bone of her body. 

 

It seemed that he and Grimmjow were instantly snapped out of whatever it was that had them focused so intensely on each other. With a few heavy, purposeful blinks, Ichigo managed to look away from Grimmjow, who was staring at the tooth on the mat. He barely felt the arm on his shoulder, pulling him away from the center of the room. 

 

“-you look at me?” 

 

A voice was speaking, pulling Ichigo out of a haze. With a few more blinks, he looked down at Tatsuki, who was staring at Ichigo with serious eyes, her face painted with concern. 

 

“Ichigo, answer me,” she commanded. 

 

“Yes. What?” 

 

“How are you feeling, can you see okay? Come on, let’s sit down.” She continued to pull Ichigo over to the side of the room, seating him on a bench. 

 

“I’m fine, just bleeding a little,” Ichigo said, not to anyone in particular. 

 

“Shut up, you lost a tooth, you might be concussed,” Tatsuki said. “You’re going to sit here and drink some water until the nurse on duty comes. Are any of your other teeth loose?” Without waiting for an answer she took Ichigo’s face in hand and began prodding at his gum line. 

 

“Ouch, fuck, Tatsuki it’s fine.” Ichigo pushed her away and ran his tongue over his teeth, wincing slightly when he came to the new hole in his smile. 

 

In the back of the room, Ichigo could see other students filing out the door while Grimmjow hung back talking to Yoruichi. She must have dismissed the class early. His face was shadowed, his blue hair hanging in sweaty clumps in front of his face and his head dropped low. Yoruichi looked angry, her mouth moving rapidly, pointing at Grimmjow repeatedly. 

 

He didn’t know how long he stared, his attention pulled away by a tall woman with short silver hair. Right, the athletic trainer. 

 

“Hi, my name’s Isane, how are you? I mean, obviously you’re not great, but anyway I’m gonna check you out for a concussion.”

 

She began checking him over, asking a series of questions in a bubbly, lilting cadence that Ichigo only half listened to. She was efficient and friendly, but Ichigo could only think about how Grimmjow had disappeared from the room. 

 

When he’d been thoroughly inspected, Ichigo was released with the stipulation that he would come to visit Isane’s office tomorrow to be checked again, just in case. He assured Tatsuki for what had to have been the tenth time that he was perfectly capable of getting back to his dorm alone, thanked Yoruichi for the class, and left for the locker rooms. He was sure that Yoruichi would give him the same dress down that she’d given to Grimmjow, but for whatever reason, she didn’t press it today.

 

He didn’t even bother changing. It’d be more satisfying to shower at his dorm anyway, where he could take his time and then collapse into bed right away. The sound of a shower running in the back of the room almost tempted him to stay, but at this point, he just wanted to go home. He pulled on a sweatshirt and track pants, threw his jacket over it, grabbed his bag from the locker, and headed out of the building into the rapidly darkening night. 

 

Ichigo’s dorm was close enough to the athletic center, but he walked briskly home, eager to put the day behind him. He fished his earbuds and phone out of his bag, and was greeted by several missed texts, the notifications cluttering up his lock screen.

 

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ Hey I made it on time guess who’s not buying drinks this week? This gay!  _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ Guy** but actually gay is better  _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ It’s Toshiro this week so if you wanted to come you should cause they’re all ripping him for being late cause of your sister.  _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ Is that a thing?  _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ Them dating I mean.  _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ Anyway sorry if it was awkward in the locker room.  _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ Did you guys talk?  _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ LMK how it went, Ikkaku and I were gonna go to el rey after practice if you want to come _

**_Yumi ^_−☆:_ ** _ I promise that Ikkaku won’t bring up your sister and Toshiro if that bothers you  _

 

Yumichika’s rapid fire texting style didn’t usually bother him, but right now the block of text made Ichigo shiver as he came down from his adrenaline rush. He looked through the message chain and felt his chest getting tighter and tighter before stopping in his tracks. He stood there, staring at his phone when he finally just let it drop to his side. 

 

A wave of anxiety washed over him, like a bucket of ice water. Yumichika’s texts had reminded them that he’d basically just completely wrecked his chances of talking to Grimmjow like a sane person. God, and Grimmjow had practically said that he liked him! Why couldn’t he have just said, I like you too, I care about you too, let’s get a coffee some time. If he could have done that, then class would have been normal, he probably would have scheduled a date, and he wouldn’t be missing a tooth. Fuck. Where was his fucking tooth?

 

Maybe he wouldn’t have felt this way if he hadn’t been running himself into the ground over all this Grimmjow stuff. If he wasn’t still shaking with left over adrenaline, if his jaw wasn’t radiating fingers of pain down his neck, if his ribs weren’t throbbing with the promise of multiple bruises, then maybe this wouldn’t be a big deal. It would just be a normal misunderstanding, a normal, if not intense kickboxing class, and a normal guy likes guy situation.

 

It wasn’t one, a big deal, that is. The essay he had due on Thursday should feel like a bigger deal, it actually affected his future, where this was just a mix-up, a bad read of each other’s intentions. A misunderstanding built on a mistake, piggy-backing on an assumption that led him here. Alone in the middle of campus, feeling like he was the most idiotic, childish, petty, selfish person in the world. 

 

Ichigo realized that he’d stopped breathing, panic like rubber bands constricting around his chest, and he felt a single tear roll down his cheek. He looked around him, night now fully set on the campus, and seeing that he was alone, let the rubber bands snap, allowing himself to feel the weeks of emotional build up that he had been holding in. 

 

It felt like all Ichigo could do was crumple to the ground. He collapsed in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around them. A few shuddering sobs ripped through his chest, just enough to exorcise the pain that had settled there. Even once he’d mostly finished his short cry, he remained sitting hunched over on the ground just off the sidewalk. If he sat there long enough, he knew eventually he could get himself together.

 

A body stepped in front of the light, putting Ichigo in shadow. He almost didn’t care, whoever it was could enjoy the free show. They stood there, unmoving, for too long. It made Ichigo so angry, the nerve of them to just stand there taking in his private moment. He looked up ready to tell them off, and instead locked eyes with the one person he wanted to avoid forever.

 

“Fuck, it had to be you, didn’t it?” Ichigo looked up, blinking through angry, nearly dried tears, at Grimmjow. 

 

He didn’t answer and instead crouched down to Ichigo’s level, avoiding eye contact and gently taking Ichigo’s hand in his. Ichigo let him, though he didn’t know why. 

 

“Yup, it did.” 

 

Ichigo almost missed his whispered reply. It was more of an exhale, and with it Grimmjow breathed out more than just words. 

 

“It seems like it has to be you, too. For me, anyway. Can’t stand the thought of you being for anyone else.”

 

Ichigo didn’t know how to reply to that, swallowing thickly and wiping the corners of his eyes with his free hand. Grimmjow was actively avoiding looking him in the face, but Ichigo couldn’t look away from his. 

 

Tenderly, so tenderly, Grimmjow brought Ichigo’s hand to his mouth, placing the lightest of kisses on his knuckles. It was barely there, ghosting over his skin, the sensation of Grimmjow’s calloused hands more prevalent than his lips, but still it burned. 

 

He let go of Ichigo’s hand, softly placing it back on Ichigo’s knee, and left without saying another word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter took me way longer than I meant it too. It's been a rough couple months for me so sorry about the wait. Plus I've been hyperfixating on Haikyuu!! which makes it hard to think about Bleach. So if anyone wants to talk to me about that... lmk. 
> 
> Enormous thanks to Oldtown156, PacificOuroboros, and Runoa for helping me muscle through this one. I'm getting pretty close to the end here so thanks for sticking with me. 
> 
> I'm sticking some art into Chapter 7. Go back and check it out! It was done by PacificOuroboros and it is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me and a big reason that I was able to come back to this fic when I did. That and some really kind comments, whew! You guys sure know how to make a gal feel appreciated. Feel free to yell at me on tumblr if I ever take that long again. 
> 
> See you next time.


	11. Chapter 11

Wednesday morning, Grimmjow woke up with a stomach ache. He figured it was because he’d skipped dinner last night, and cursed himself for waking up too late to have a proper breakfast. Annoyed, he settled for a squashed cereal bar that had been rattling around in the bottom of his backpack for a while and rushed to class. 

 

Even after lunch time, the aching feeling still hadn’t gone away. He’d taken a chance on some dubious looking Chinese food in the student cafeteria, which historically for him had been a high risk/high reward situation. It tasted really good today, so he had thought that he was in the clear, but the ball of lead that had settled in his abdomen instead started to spread through his chest, so maybe it had been a bad call after all. 

 

By Wednesday night, when he had sequestered himself in the studio with Nel and Ulquiorra, the aching threatened to take over his entire body. He was working on a class project, an oil pastel piece that had gotten away from him and threatened to take over his whole desk. Nel was sketching something on a large pad of paper, perched cross-legged on top of her desk, and Ulquiorra was typing away at what was probably the Art History essay that had been assigned that day. Damn overachiever. Grimmjow exhaled heavily, uncomfortable on the stool he sat on, as his gut twisted and churned in a way that he was finally starting to accept had nothing to do with what he had or hadn’t eaten.

 

“If you keep groaning like that, I’m either going to take you to a doctor or start posting the audio as your audition for a porn site,” Ulquiorra spoke up, the cadence of keys tapping never stopping as he typed diligently. 

 

“That’s pretty fucking gay of you, dude, is it really turning you on that much? Something you need to tell me?” Grimmjow sniped back.

 

“Don’t turn this around. You’re the one moaning over there every three minutes.”

 

“It’s pretty distracting, I have to agree,” Nel quipped, the  _ tch tch tch  _ sound of her pencil pausing as she scratched the tip of her nose with her eraser.

 

“I just think I ate something bad, I keep waiting to throw up or shit my brains out or something, but nothing is happening,” Grimmjow groused. 

 

“What did you eat?”

 

“The Chinese food.”

 

“Hmm it was good today though,” Nel said contemplatively. “I had it too, actually. And so did Tier.”

 

“What else did you eat?” Ulquiorra asked, like a doctor taking notes.

 

“Nothing, I don’t know, a clif bar.”

 

“You know it’s 9 pm right? Did you not have dinner?” Ulquiorra said. If it had been anyone else it would have been berating. 

 

“Uh, I guess not.” Grimmjow scratched his scalp with his thumb and then inspected his fingernails. Color from the oil pastels was smudging each of his fingers and trailing up his forearms, a miniature palette on his own skin.

 

“So over the past, let me guess, twenty four hours, you’ve only eaten that and some lukewarm Kung Pao chicken? And you didn’t stop to think that was part of the problem?” Ulquiorra pressed on. 

 

“Er, no?”

 

Ulquiorra sighed, finally ceasing his typing. He closed his laptop and turned around to face Grimmjow properly. “Shall we go get you something to eat then, so you can actually do your work and stop distracting us?”

 

Grimmjow thought about it. It was logical, of course, since Ulquiorra was the one suggesting it. “Fine. Where are we going? It’s almost too late for anything.” 

 

“It’s Wednesday, so there’s the late night breakfast special. We could-”

 

“Oh shit, it’s Wednesday? I almost forgot!” Nel interrupted. 

 

“Why, is something happening?” Grimmjow asked her. 

 

“No, it’s just usually you spend all day Wednesday complaining about kickboxing class and you haven’t mentioned it at all. I heard someone lost a tooth!”

 

The weight in his stomach, which had nearly been forgotten, now returned full force. Nel’s words had connected the dots in his head, or rather illuminated the connected dots that Grimmjow had been ignoring. 

 

It wasn’t like he didn’t  _ know  _ that he had a crush on Ichigo. He pretty much had put that together when he was left standing in the hallway outside the cafeteria bathroom watching Ichigo disappear into a crowd. And even if that was only two days ago, the realization had certainly made all their other interactions click into place. 

 

Ulquiorra and Nel looked at Grimmjow expectantly. They were right, he usually did spend the entirety of their Wednesday studio nights talking about how he was going to really put Kurosaki in his place next week. Somehow, it didn’t seem like the right thing to say today, what with the whole tooth business. A tooth that was currently sitting on his dresser in his dorm after he’d grabbed it unthinkingly off the mat last night. Was that weird? Was that gross? He didn’t mean anything by it, it was just a reaction, really, and someone was going to have to pick it up eventually so-

 

“You still haven’t said anything.” 

 

“Ah, yeah. I guess not.” Grimmjow blinked. “Can we go get some food though?”

 

Ulquiorra regarded Grimmjow silently, his wide green eyes analyzing him. “Fine with me. Nel, you’re driving.”

 

“Fine, then I’m not paying!” she said, jumping up and throwing her sketch pad under her desk. She would have seemed oblivious to the tension, but her gaze lingered on Grimmjow’s face for a moment too long, and Grimmjow knew that she, too, was waiting for some sort of explanation. 

 

He supposed he would tell them everything. About their fighting, verbal and physical, yesterday. About how seeing Ichigo crumpled on the sidewalk had made him want to curl up next to him. He’d tell the truth about what he’d done on Halloween, and confess to Nel why he’d been so angry the other day at thinking Ichigo might have been dating someone. And a small part of him knew that they already knew, in their own way. 

 

“Shall we?” Nel smiled, holding out her hand. 

 

He followed her out to her car, the heaviness he’d been carrying lightening with each step. 

  
  


***

 

Ichigo really enjoyed having a single dorm. What he really didn’t enjoy was how his room became the default study room whenever there wasn’t a good spot in the library. ‘It’s the biggest!’ Rukia would always insist, but what it meant was that Ichigo was stuck with people in his room for much longer than he’d like. He wouldn’t consider himself especially introverted, it’s just that one can only handle so many “study parties” that end up going ‘til 1:30AM before getting burnt out. 

 

Studying was a pretty generous description of what was going on. Rukia and Renji had sprawled over the couch and each other, each with their laptops open but neither actually working. Ichigo was at his desk with an essay up on his laptop, and Orihime had fully given up the pretense of working. She was laying on her stomach on Ichigo’s bed, propped up on her elbows while she scrolled through various social media. Her head was at the foot of the bed near his desk, and the constantly changing colors and snippets of sound as she tapped through instagram stories was getting very distracting. 

 

“Awwwwwwwww,” Orihime sighed. “Ahhh. Oh!” 

 

Ichigo looked up at her, waiting for an explanation. It had been like this all night, and he could feel his nerves fraying. All he wanted to do was finish his essay, but between the domestic bliss on his futon and Orihime’s continuous and incomplete commentary on whatever she was watching, it was clearly not going to happen. After a particularly long exhale next to him, he snapped. 

 

“What?!”

 

She looked up from her phone, and Rukia and Renji, too, broke from their reverie, seemingly unaware of what Ichigo had been listening to for half an hour.

 

 “Hmm?” she blinked innocently. 

 

“You’ve been sighing constantly. What is it? What could it possibly be?” 

 

“I didn’t notice,” Renji supplied unhelpfully.

 

“Yeah, well, she’s basically in my fuckin’ ear, so I did.”

 

Orhime’s face crumpled a bit. “God, you’re grumpy. I’m just looking at Nel’s story. She’s getting late night breakfast.”

 

“Oh, I could really go for some breakfast food,” Renji murmured to himself.

 

“You could always go for some breakfast,” Rukia laughed, swatting his arm.

 

“We should go!” Renji said. 

 

“Who’s she with?” Rukia asked.

 

“Looks like Ulqui and Grimmjow,” came the reply. “Let’s goooo, I haven’t seen Ulqui all day.” 

 

“Hard pass,” Ichigo said turning his back to his friends so he could face his computer again.

 

“Come on, it’s been like half a semester, and you like Nel, right? Can’t you just like, be civil for five minutes? For the sake of breakfast food?” 

 

“Nope.”

 

“But looooook, they’ve got waffles tonight!!” Orihime shoved her phone into Ichigo’s face. He tried to push it away, but the photo caught his eye, and instead he snatched it out of her hand. 

 

It was Nel’s instagram story. A photo of Ulquiorra and Grimmjow. Ichigo held his finger down to keep it from changing, knowing he was using too much pressure. Grimmjow’s arm and face were smudged with color; blues and greens and oranges ran from his fist down to his elbow and smeared across his right cheekbone. His face was split with a wide toothy grin, his eyes closed and crinkled with laughter. Ulquiorra, too, had a smile on his face, the biggest Ichigo had ever seen but a smirk to anyone else. Between them was a waffle the size of a Ulquiorra’s face. They each were holding up two sausages speared on two different forks like a bizarre peace sign. Nel had captioned it ‘bit of a sausage fest here’ and tagged them both. 

 

Orihime grabbed for her phone again. Ichigo managed to avoid her, blocking her reach with his shoulder, but became astutely aware that he must have been staring at the photo for too long. She looked impatient, her hands grasping at air while she petulantly blew hair out of her face. 

 

“You done with that?” she said, miffed. “Isn’t that waffle massive though?”

 

“Yeah no kidding.” Ichigo rolled his eyes and returned the phone. 

 

“You guys want to go?” Orihime asked. 

 

“Hell yeah!”

 

“Might as well.” 

 

Rukia and Renji locked eyes and smiled as they chorused. 

 

Ichigo quirked an eyebrow. “You have to know I’m not gonna do that.”

 

“Whyyyyyyyy?” Orihime and Renji whined in an accidental harmony, long and drawn out. 

 

“Are you dumb? Grimmjow practically concussed me yesterday!”

 

“Yeah, but then he kissed you, so he made it all better, right?” Renji said with a laugh. 

 

“WHAT!” Rukia and Orihime chorused. 

 

“Dude! Fuck you, I told you not to mention that!” Ichigo burst. 

 

“I, I mean he didn’t really kiss him,” Renji said, sheepishly turning to Rukia. 

 

“What does that even mean?” Rukia demanded. 

 

Renji blushed heavily and Ichigo could feel his own face heating up. Rukia turned her gaze to Ichigo, her eyes demanding an explanation. 

 

“I-it wasn’t even a kiss,” he said, stammering. “It was, like, a- uh, fist bump.”

 

“With his lips,” Renji supplied.

 

“On my hand!” Ichigo yelled back. 

 

“His lips on your hand.”

 

Orihime’s head snapped back and forth between the two of them like they were watching a tennis match. 

 

“Yeah, like how bros do,” Rukia broke in smugly. 

 

Ichigo’s mouth gaped open. Hard to find a comeback for that. He glared at Renji instead. “I told you not to say anything.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us. That’s way more interesting than the tooth thing. That’s like leaving half the story out,” Orihime complained. “And by the way, kinda fucked up I heard about it from some random girl in your class and not you.”

 

“Oh yeah, word is getting around,” Renji laughed. “I actually think it’s gonna make the class more popular.”

 

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Ichigo bemoaned. 

 

“Do you not trust us?” Rukia asked. Her gaze was piercing but her voice was soft. 

 

Ichigo scoffed a bit, caught off-guard by the question. “Seems like I shouldn’t, since Renji started running his mouth first chance he got.”

 

“That’s not fair, you know Rukia and Orihime don’t count!” 

 

“Except for the part where I specifically told you not to tell them!”

 

“I think you’re making a bigger deal of this than it is, Ichigo,” Orihime said, her wide eyes solemn with the sudden maturity she seemed able to turn on and off. “Why are you trying to hide it from us? It’s not even something you did.”

 

“It’s embarrassing!” Ichigo burst. “Dude knocks my teeth out, literally-“

 

“Tooth,” Renji interjected. 

 

“-catches me crying twenty minutes later like a child, and fucking kisses my hand like a Victorian gentleman courting a fainting damsel! Why the fuck would he do that?!”

 

A bit of silence followed, but Rukia was the one to break it. “I know you’re upset and I understand why. Not to throw your own words back at you, but maybe he’s trying to court you? I mean he’s doing a really bad job.”

 

“Yeah, clearly! I mean, yes, he practically confessed in the locker room-“

 

The room exploded with an uproar of reactions. 

 

“He WHAT-!“

 

“Why didn’t you say-!“

 

“Are you fucking SERIOU-!“

 

Rukia was looking at Renji angrily, as if it was his fault for omitting something he didn’t know. “Ichigo you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“I don’t know! ‘Cause it doesn’t matter? I ruined it. I like him back and I ruined it.” Ichigo sat back in his desk chair, letting his shoulders finally relax. He looked down at his hands, inspecting his nails because he was afraid to look at anything else. 

 

“Now we’re starting to get somewhere,” Renji muttered under his breath. Ichigo couldn’t see it, but Rukia must have elbowed him; a dull thud and a loud “Oof!” had followed his words. 

 

He glanced back up at his friends, each of them staring back with genuine looks of concern. He felt his heart swell a little with the happiness that he had people who cared so much about him, but he turned his gaze back down to his lap. 

 

“I’m still not going to go get breakfast food,” he announced.”

 

“That’s fair.” Rukia stood up, brushing her skirt off and adjusting her clothing. “We get it, Ichigo, we really do. Whenever you decide you want to talk about it, let us know. For whatever it’s worth though, I’m pretty sure it’s not ruined.” 

 

She eyed Ichigo meaningfully for a moment, then turned to her boyfriend, who had also been staring at Ichigo. Not that he could have noticed when he was paralyzed under Rukia’s piercing gaze. Probably Orihime was staring too, all of them trying to analyze him the way Grimmjow so often did. 

 

“Let’s get you some bacon, Muscle Boy.” Renji leapt up at her words, hastily packing up his backpack. 

 

“‘Hime, you in?” Renji asked. 

 

“Yeah, it’s not like I’m working anyway.” She slid off Ichigo’s bed clumsily, raised too high for her short legs. Once she made it down to the floor, she gave Ichigo a tight hug, pressing herself up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. 

 

“We love you ,too, you know?” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and pulled away, a goofy smile plastered to her face. 

 

“See you later, dude,” Renji waved. One by one they filed out of his door, leaving Ichigo alone with his essay and his thoughts. 

 

Just because other people thought that he might still have a chance with Grimmjow didn’t mean anything. It still felt like a heavy, resigned failure in his heart. 

 

There was no way this essay was going to be finished tonight. Ichigo stretched out onto his bed, just for a moment. If he could just close his eyes for a few minutes, maybe he could stave off this headache and regroup.

 

***

 

“Mierda.”

 

Grimmjow choked a bit on an especially dry piece of toast and cursed under his breath when he saw Renji, flanked by Orihime and Rukia, entering the cafeteria. The trio had trays laden with with breakfast food and, more noticeably, they were not with their usual fourth friend.

 

Nel, oblivious to Grimmjow’s coughing, squealed when she saw Orihime and began frantically waving in their direction, trying to flag them down. The answering peel of laughter could kill a man. Honestly, Grimmjow didn’t mind Orihime, and was glad that Ulquiorra was with someone nice, but, god, her and Nel together were like a match and lighter fluid. He hadn’t decided which was which. 

 

_ At least Ichigo isn’t with them _ , Grimmjow kept repeating to himself, as his classmates settled at the table around them. Orihime wormed her way in between Nel and Ulquiorra, not discouraged that there wasn’t even a chair there, and sat right down on Ulquiorra’s lap.  _ At least she’s tiny _ . _ At least they aren’t talking to him at all.  _ Grimmjow took a big bite of scrambled eggs. _ At least Ichigo isn’t here _ . 

 

“So I heard about the tooth thing.” 

 

Grimmjow snapped up to see Rukia looking at him expectantly, Renji with his mouth full and eyes wide next to her. 

 

He took his time replying, forcing down the eggs with a hard swallow. Before he could do so, Nel chimed in from across the table.

 

“What tooth thing? What’s wrong with your tooth, Grimmy?” Nel started to reach towards his mouth, as if she was some sort of dental expert.

 

Orihime made a disgusted face, settling herself more firmly in Ulquiorra’s lap. “Not his tooth, Nel. Ichigo’s.”

 

Grimmjow caught a look at Renji’s face as he mouthed what was most likely, “I’m sorry, man,” and went back to chowing down on hashbrowns. 

 

“Wait, that was you??” Nel exclaimed. “That really happened?” A weird, excited grin crossed her face. “That’s so gross, oh my god I thought it someone was just exaggerating, why didn’t you tell me?” she said, in a way that was more fascinated than anything else. “Must have been a really good kick though, Grimm, you’re getting so good. Remember when you said you wanted to go pro?”

 

Grimmjow flushed uncomfortably in embarrassment.  “It was an accident,” he mumbled, not wanting Ichigo’s friends to think it was a purposeful attack. The fight had just gotten away from him. From both of them, if they were being fair. So in a way Ichigo was just as responsible. “And I apologized,” he added, emphatically. 

 

“Oh, we heard about that, too,” Rukia smirked, which only added more fuel to the burning fire that was Grimmjow’s blush. 

 

Renji fully choked this time, half-chewed sausage falling out of his mouth. Rukia, not breaking eye contact with Grimmjow, gave him several hard slaps on the back. “Okay there, champ?” 

 

As Renji hauled air into his lungs, Grimmjow swiftly cleaned his plate. He didn’t need to stick around for this, whatever powerplay Rukia had going on. It was clear he was out matched. In a clumsy, rushed maneuver, he stood abruptly, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair at the same time. 

 

“Fobgob I’b gob sumfin’ due ‘manana hasda prondo,” Grimmjow garbled, unrepentant as he spat out half chewed food. 

 

“One more time, bud?” Rukia smiled mercilessly. 

 

Completely outmatched. 

 

Grimmjow squinted, annoyed more at himself for running away from a fight, even a verbal one. Seems like he was always a coward when it came to Kurosaki. He did the only thing one could do in that situation: threw up a peace sign with his left hand and said, “Smell you later.” 

 

The interaction joined a long list of interactions that had been haunting him since October 31st. 

  
  


***

 

Ichigo didn’t move until he suddenly woke up still in his clothes, the lights on, and faint music playing through his laptop. 

 

Groggily, he turned onto his side, grasping at where he thought his phone might be on the window sill. The lights were too bright, he couldn’t properly look for it, and it was only when a series of vibrating notifications went off that he was able to locate it. 

 

They were all texts from Karin. The first was a photo of her, tongue out and a rock on hand gesture, with Yuzu in the background in front of a stove. The following messages offered some, but not enough, explanation. 

 

_ Karin: She’s gone into stress baking mode #college _

_ Karin: #wifematerial #ifichigodoesntkillhimfirst _

_ Karin: #fakeittilyoubakeit _

 

There was another photo as well, this time, just of Yuzu flipping the camera off, a tired but fierce look in her eye. Only then did he notice the time at the top of his screen. 1:30 AM. Ichigo chuckled and starting typing back. 

 

_ Ichigo: Shouldn’t you guys be asleep? _

 

_ Karin: Shouldn’t you? _

_ Karin: didn’t think you’d actually respond _

_ Karin: did I wake you up tho? My b _

 

_ Ichigo: Won’t you get in trouble for using the kitchen this late? _

 

_ Karin: Are you kidding? She paid off the RA first week of college. As long as he gets some, you really think that Kira is gonna do anything? _

 

_ Ichigo: Fair point _

_ Ichigo: Save some for me _

 

_ Karin: Come get some yourself _

_ Karin: It’s not a big campus and you never visit _

 

_ Ichigo: It’s 1:30??? _

 

_ Karin: Yeah? _

 

_ Ichigo: ... _

_ Ichigo: On my way! _

_ Ichigo: damn autocorrect should know by now I’m an omw person _

 

It wasn’t like he wasn’t dressed anyway. And Karin was right, he hadn’t seen them in ages. It felt like ever since Halloween, he had been so caught up in his own stuff that he’d completely forgotten to be a big brother too. 

 

It was a five minute walk to the freshman dorm, where Ichigo himself had lived a few years ago. The weird inspirational posters were strangely nostalgic as he wove his way through the halls and to the back of the building where the kitchen and lounge were. There, Karin had taken over a whole table with books, and Yuzu had taken over every other available surface. When Karin spotted him, she gave a half hearted wave. 

 

“Come to talk her down?” she jabbed, and Yuzu pointedly did not answer. 

 

“Maybe a bit. Maybe I’m just here for the treats.” A comically large pile of cookies had claimed a large portion of one of Yuzu’s tables. 

 

“You and everyone else. You just missed Toshiro too, he came through.” Karin said, flipping a page. 

 

“More like came here specifically for you and then stayed for four hours,” Yuzu shot over her shoulder.

 

Karin blanched, looking mortified. “I-! He’s good company!” she sputtered.

 

“Yeah, maybe for you. For everyone else, he’s like, the most stony person alive next to Orihime’s boyfriend.” Yuzu glared at Karin, the dark circles under her eyes only punctuating it. 

 

Ichigo’s eyes widened, unused to seeing his sisters fight. Yuzu had turned back to the dough she was kneading at mercilessly.

 

“I’m just sick of seeing you guys dancing around each other,” she tacked on. “If you’re gonna date, do it. No one else cares.”

 

Karin looked at Ichigo meaningfully, opening her mouth to say something, but Yuzu cut her off. “You too, Ichigo. Don’t think I don’t know something is happening with you.” She turned around with a spoon in her hand, leveling it at Ichigo as if it were a sword. “I don’t know all the details, but believe me, I will.”

 

Ichigo swallowed. “Damn, Yuzu, when did you get so scary?”

 

Karin blinked and whispered to Ichigo, “It usually kicks in around 3am or her second batch of rough puff pastry, whichever comes first.” 

 

“I’ve always been scary,” Yuzu added. “I’ve just been hiding it.”

 

True. 

 

“How’d you know?” Ichigo knew he didn’t have to elaborate.

 

“Well, first, I was dropping off pastries at work and watched a buff, blue hair dude buy four cinnamon rolls while cursing, and I quote, ‘fuckin’ Kurosaki’ for making him fat. Neither Karin or I knew him, so had to be you by default.” Yuzu emphasized her first point with a finger in Ichigo’s direction while Karin nodded along solemnly. 

 

“Then you stopped talking to us around Halloween so you must have caught feelings, ‘cause you always ignore us when you do.” Ichigo started to deny it, but Yuzu swatted at him with her spoon. “A week or so later the mysterious blue hair guy yells at you in the hallway in front of half the school on the same day that Uryuu tells me that dude was taking care of you when you were sick. And if Uryuu thought it was worth bringing up,” Yuzu faced back towards her mixing bowl, but turned to look menacingly over her shoulder. “Something is happening.” 

 

Ichigo crossed his arms. “This all seems very circumstantial. You sound like you’ve got a cork board with red string up in your room trying to make this all be something it isn’t. Sorry, Yuzu, but you don’t have anything here.”

 

“Yeah, nothing but sisterly intuition...” she trailed off, and smirked like a gremlin who had nothing to lose. “And, of course, my informant.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her phone, which she opened to show Ichigo a photo, one that he didn’t even know existed. It was of him and Grimmjow, both on Renji’s back porch, standing, well, way too close together to be strictly platonic. 

 

“Who sent you this?” Ichigo asked, grabbing the phone before Yuzu’s sleep deprived reflexes could kick in. He started to swipe, and found a picture of them again, this time in costume in the backyard of that theater house. The next one was of them standing outside the English building, Grimmjow’s hand gripped on Ichigo’s shoulder. 

 

“Hey!” She whined, as he held it over her head and tapped back to see the sender. Yumichika. 

 

“That demon! Oh my god, you two are both demons. You’ve made a deal with the devil and he also has ‘cause you’re both devils,” Ichigo groaned, handing the phone back. 

 

So Yumi had been on to him way longer than he’d let on. He’d faked surprise at finding out Grimmjow was Halloween Party Guy so well. Leave it to an actor to never turn it off. 

 

“It doesn’t mean anything anyway,” Ichigo continued. “Even if I liked him, he doesn’t like me. We fight all the time, he even knocked out my tooth!”

 

Karin grimaced. “Oh yuck, did that really happen? I thought that was just like, a rumor.” 

 

“Yeah! It fuckin’ happened! He’s a menace and we’re incompatible!” Ichigo said, eyebrows shooting up to his eyebrows and exasperation leaking into his voice. 

 

“Karin, remember when you knocked out that kid on our block’s teeth with a soccer ball?” Yuzu butted in. “What was his name? James?”

 

“Jamie?” 

 

“Jaime?

 

“Hajime?”

 

“Who cares!” Ichigo burst, throwing his hands up. “That’s not the point, that’s not what we’re talking about!” He put his hands on his head and let them drag down his face. He let his eyes close and focused on the smell of the cookies in front of him. 

 

“Ichi, we’re sorry.” 

 

Ichigo looked up to see Karin staring back, her dark eyes uncharacteristically softened, whether by emotion or the late hour was neither here nor there. 

 

“Your problems are real and valid. If you want advice, I can give you my opinion, and if you want to just complain, we can eat these cookies while you vent.”

 

Yuzu was leaning back against the counter, looking at her siblings meaningfully and gave a nod in the affirmative. Nothing else needed to be said, because family was always there for each other. 

 

No matter how long this day had been, at least it was reaffirming. Between his twin sisters and his oldest friends, he had a feeling of relief. No matter how crazy or frustrating his own life was, some people would always be around. 

 

“Let’s just do the cookies part.”

 

###  ***

 

_ Pasta dental _

_ Champú de lujo para Nel _

_ Comida de gato  _

_ Medicina para la alergia _

_ Delineador de ojos _

 

Grimmjow idly wandered the aisles of Target, knocking the hand-held basket against his right knee with every step. Even as he mentally checked over his list, he couldn’t help but think he was missing something important, even though he knew he was gonna be walking away with more than he meant to get. Stupid candle aisle got him every time.

 

It was kind of nice to be at the store. He had borrowed Nel’s car, the only requisite was that he get her special shampoo. Other than that, he was free to browse through the kitchen section like a zombie, knowing full well he had no business even looking at a food dehydrator, no matter how good a deal it was. He could disassociate for as long as he wanted here, leaving his problems back at school until later. Well, at least until 10pm when the store closed. 

 

He found himself staring at a shelf of hair dye, wondering if the blue was really worth the upkeep. Fuck, what was he thinking? Of course it was. He checked his phone. 9:30. He should just check out at this point, go back to campus and put the final touches on this one last piece for tomorrow’s show. As he turned to leave he heard a weirdly familiar pair of voices, though he couldn’t quite place them. 

 

“Twenty bucks for a face moisturizer? That’s ridiculous!”

 

“It’s a small price to pay for self esteem, ‘Kaku.”

 

“It’s only like, four ounces of product!”

 

“And it makes my skin glow in a way that ethereal beings could only dream of achieving. What do you care, you’re not paying for it.”

 

“Technically, no, but what’s gonna happen tomorrow morning when you start complaining about wanting a coffee and not having any money?”

 

“Well, maybe my loving and doting boyfriend will treat me and then also tell me how beautiful I look.”

 

Peeking around the corner of the end cap, Grimmjow peered into the next aisle. Arguing amongst the face masks were Abarai’s roommates. Grimmjow stiffened up, quickly turning back into the hair product aisle, hoping he hadn’t been seen. 

 

“So what you’re saying is that, in a roundabout way, I am in fact paying for it.”

 

“You could have stayed home, you know, I don’t need your help to pick up these EXTRA SMALL CONDOMS!”

 

“Shut the fuck up, dude! You know that isn’t true.”

 

“Dude? You literally see my asshole every day, we’re long past dude.”

 

“Yeah and what do you think I’m doing with it?, hm? Certainly not using anything you could call extra small on it.”

 

A low chuckle could barely be heard through the shelves and Grimmjow wished he could run away but something rooted him to the spot as the lighter of the two voices dropped to a disturbingly seductive tone. 

 

“Mmm, you know I do love that monster cock of yours, wish I could take it right now.”

 

“You could,” the deeper voice said, and was followed up by a sharp slam into the metal shelves that rattled the shampoo above Grimmjow’s head. Wet, sucking sounds from the other side snapped something inside of him, unable to take the lewdness of the scene anymore.

 

“Fucking Christ,” Grimmjow roared, as he turned back into the other aisle, “what the fuck is wrong with you guys! You’re in public! This is a Target! Is nothing holy anymore?”

 

“Oh, it’s you,” Ichigo’s dark haired friend said, nonchalantly picking himself out of the face wash shelf and smoothing his hair. “Funny meeting you here.”

 

“Funny? Fuckin’ disgusting meeting you here. This whole interaction has made me homophobic,” Grimmjow started ranting. “I guess it turns out we don’t deserve rights, it was a good try but-”

 

“We? And which letter in LGBT fits you, Grimmjow? You give me big B vibes but I could see you as a ‘masc for masc’ kind of guy,” the dark haired guy interjected, his question very clearly not needing an answer.

 

“Hey, did you see that tumblr post about that couple who was all the letters at different times in their lives?” the bald one said. 

 

“Yes, L-M-A-O!” 

 

Grimmjow was uncharacteristically sputtering as he watched these two human shit posts continue on without him, though he felt like he was being thoroughly dissected by, what’s his fuckin’ name? Yumichika. 

 

 “Hey, I heard about the tooth thing,” Yumichika said, changing gears and resuming his critical analysis of each square inch of Grimmjow’s body.

 

“Yeah, you and everyone else,” Grimmjow growled back. 

 

“This is the tooth guy?” Ikkaku, Grimmjow had just remembered, asked. “Like Ichigo’s kickboxing guy? I thought he was Ichigo’s cooking class guy, ‘cause he came over that one time.”

 

“I am,” Grimmjow responded angrily, though he didn’t appreciate Ichigo’s implied ownership and the fact that Ikkaku would only address Yumichika.

 

“He is,” Yumichika said, ignoring Grimmjow as he continued to grow more annoyed. “And he’s the cinnamon roll guy.”

 

“I’m the what?”

 

“Hm, I thought that the cinnamon roll guy was the same as the art student guy?”

 

“I-”

 

“You’re right, baby, good job remembering,” Yumichika purred, and Ikkaku glowed from the praise, much to Grimmjow’s growing disgust. 

 

“Wow, here I thought that Ichigo just had a crush on lots of different dudes. Man, he really is pining!” 

 

Yumichika made a noncommittal noise, and flicked his dark, hooded gaze back over to Grimmjow, who now stood pale and solid as a statue. “The thing is, he’s also the Halloween guy.”  

 

“Wait,  _ he’s  _ Ichigo’s Halloween guy?” Ikkaku asked, oblivious to the tension between his boyfriend and the puddle that was once Grimmjow. “I thought Ichigo didn’t know who the Halloween guy was.”

 

“He knows now. And last I heard, he didn’t mind.” Yumichika leveled a meaningful look towards Grimmjow. 

 

He hadn’t thought it was possible, but these two broke him for the second time in less than five minutes. 

 

“First of all!” Grimmjow yelled, not caring that he was getting stares from a middle aged woman in the feminine products aisle across from them. “I’m not Ichigo’s anything!”

 

“Do you want to be?” Yumichika interrupted, before Grimmjow could continue his thought.

 

“What?” he said, breathlessly.

 

“Do you want to be something to Ichigo?” Yumichika asked again, inspecting his nails with a practiced, casual air as if he hadn’t just cut off Grimmjow’s outburst. “I bet you could be. I bet he’d like that quite a bit.”

 

Grimmjow paused. He looked around them, almost afraid of being overheard despite hollering just moments ago. This had to be some sort of prank. “Is this a joke to you?” 

 

“No, I treat Ichigo’s feelings very seriously,” Yumichika replied. “And I think that you guys would be a good pair. So much so that I’ve been trying to get you together all semester, but you’re both so damn belligerent it’s been all I can do to keep Ichigo from self-destructing this crush of his.”

 

It was really all Grimmjow could do to keep himself standing. “So I should go ask him out?”

 

“Could be a good start,” Yumichika smirked. 

 

 “Cool.” Grimmjow stood there for a moment longer, then plucked a bright green face mask off the shelf next to Yumichika. Aloe something. Nel would probably like it. He grabbed three more for them all to do in the studio. “Well, thanks,” he said, with an awkward wave, finally leaving the couple behind him and heading to the self check-out. 

 

In his wake, he heard a not-so-quiet question from Ikkaku to Yumichika.

 

“Well that was weird, think they’ll fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this up in time for Halloween to celebrate the part of this fic that I started with, but instead I took a page out of Ichigo's book and dressed as a cat for a bar crawl. Side note, some dude was dressed in a truly impeccable Urahara costume and I told him he was the only valid person at the bar. He complimented my Yoruichi costume. 
> 
> If you're still with me, whew. Thanks! Bigger thanks to Oldtown156 for coming in hot with that literal last minute beta read. If you commented, thanks to you, also, for reminding me that this fic exists and I need to update it! It really means a lot! 
> 
> Until next time!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Como Deseès](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114971) by [PacificOuroboros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacificOuroboros/pseuds/PacificOuroboros)




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